


Near Death

by sackoflemons



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Horror, M/M, Sort of a fix-it, Supernatural Elements, canon injury mentions, post-season 3, supernatural creature!sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 06:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7674223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sackoflemons/pseuds/sackoflemons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chilton moves to San Francisco to leave his horrifying past behind, but soon learns that Hannibal and the Red Dragon were nothing compared to what's waiting for him there as he is thrust into the life of a hunter of supernatural creatures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE thanks to headbuttingbears for encouraging me, sending me random things that reminded her of this fic, pushing me to keep going, checking on my progress, doing word wars with me, etc. And thanks to both headbuttingbears and drgaybelgideon for being my betas!
> 
> This is inspired by the fact that Chilton always survives horrific things and doesn't seem as badly damaged as he should be (Bryan Fuller said that post-burning Chilton would only be "a little melted" and "slightly marred" and it's like??? how?). So I came up with an explanation for that and this fic was born. Enjoy!

Most people would assume Hannibal Lecter and the Red Dragon were the scariest things Frederick Chilton had ever seen. They'd be wrong.

Not that anyone knew who he was anymore, or rather, who he had been. Here in San Francisco, a world away from Baltimore and all the horrific things that had happened there, few people even knew his last name. He was simply “Fred” to almost everyone. And if anyone knew he was the one who’d written the books he’d be collecting royalties on for life, the one who’d been through that trauma, they’d never mentioned it to him.

That is, until he started hearing from Them. And here was another message now, whispered into his ear by a passing construction worker on his way to the convenience store. He stopped in his tracks, still not used to this, and turned back to the man. As always, he was gone.

“The Golden Lotus at eight,” he’d whispered. Chilton knew by now that this message meant something important and that the man had definitely meant it for him. He continued down the sidewalk to the convenience store, resigning himself to an evening of subpar Chinese food and some new tale of horror that would probably cause a fresh bout of insomnia.

“At least here, the monsters are not after _me_ ,” he muttered as he pulled the store’s door open, and was greeted by the sound of the tinkling bell and a furry body rubbing against his leg.

“Felix, I’ve told you so many times Fred’s allergic to cats,” Julie, the owner’s teenage daughter, said from behind the counter. “Sorry, he just wants to be friendly with everyone.”

“You know I don’t mind,” Chilton said, heading to back of the store. It was one of the only places near his apartment that sold soy milk, and the owners were nice but not too nosy. He could put up with a little cat hair on his pants. He’d even been thinking of getting a cat someday – surely there was medication he could take, or something. Maybe he’d look into hypoallergenic breeds.

The sun had dipped below the horizon when he left the store, and he regretted not bringing a heavier jacket. He’d been here for eight months but he still wasn’t used to such cool weather in summer. And the fog, dear god, it really _was_ as thick as everyone said. Like something from a horror movie. He shuddered at that thought and clutched the bag to his chest as he increased his pace. Only three hours until he was due at the Golden Lotus.

He put the food away, checked his near-dormant email account, and opened his closet doors. He’d downsized a lot since leaving Baltimore, starting with his car. His wardrobe had changed too: no more Lecteresque plaid suits and rich-hued silk ties. He’d kept his favorite tie pin, but it was lying in a drawer somewhere. Instead his closet contained a modest amount of nondescript, dark-colored pants and shirts. There were even a few hoodies he’d bought from some of the nearby universities; the ubiquitous Berkeley “Cal” one was his favorite. He’d spent so much of his life trying to stand out, and now all he wanted to do was blend in.

He selected one of his dressier navy shirts – not that the Golden Lotus was that sort of place, but he still hadn’t been able to shake the idea that it was best to make a good impression – and charcoal slacks. Might as well get ready now and relax until it was time to go.

_Relax_. That was a good one.

He flipped the bathroom light switch and stared at his reflection. To someone who didn’t know about his past, it would have been hard to believe he’d been so badly mutilated and burned. Part of it was top-notch surgeons, the rest was... something else. He could tell by Will Graham's face, which he'd seen clearly even through his morphine haze, that he had looked horrific, but it could’ve been much worse. His face hadn't melted and warped into something unrecognizable like other burn victims, and it was difficult to tell his lips weren't his original ones unless you already knew, and even then you had to look very closely. Mason Verger wished he'd had lips as realistic as these. It was still apparent that _something_ had happened to him, but he wasn't stop-and-stare hideous. Not if he kept the facial plate and glass-green contact lens in, anyway. No one he’d met had asked any questions about his scars, even the nosy ones.

He splashed water on his face, almost gasping at the cold, and picked up his comb. His hair was getting too long again, starting to cover his reconstructed ears. It was technically someone else's hair, he guessed, but it sure looked like his. Almost too much like his. Same color, same thickness, and it even started to curl when it got longer like his had done. More grey though, but he had bigger things to worry about now.

He eyed the medication on the bathroom counter that it was almost time to take. He’d started to suspect that it didn't make a difference, that he didn’t need to keep taking it because something else was keeping him alive now. He couldn’t bring himself to stop taking it and find out, though. He shook out a tiny white pill and swallowed it with a glass of water.

Still an hour and a half until it was time to start walking to the Golden Lotus. With a sigh, he sank into the red cushions of his couch and turned on the TV. Yet another tourist had gone missing, another family man from the Midwest, and he got the uneasy feeling that that was why They were contacting him tonight. His hunches hadn’t been wrong so far. He changed the channel to a sitcom, determined to get his mind off what was to come, but he didn’t laugh once.

***

“Name?” the host asked. Chilton had only been there once before, but the man’s eyes bore into him as if he knew him and didn’t care for him at all.

“Fred,” he said, unconsciously raising his eyebrows and lifting his chin slightly the way he used to back in his other life, when he’d been trying to impress someone with a psychiatric analysis. He’d never realized that he did it when he felt threatened, too.

“Ah, _yes_ ,” the man said, adjusting his tiny, round glasses and staring down at something in his book. “Let me show you to your table.” He led Chilton through the restaurant, tacky and touristy but run-down, as if it had been forgotten for decades, left out of any of the Chinatown guidebooks.

Chilton sat down at the table the host led him to, feeling the gnawing in his stomach grow. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to eat anything tonight.

He sat for an almost unbearable ten minutes, desperately wishing they’d just come in and get it over with. The prints on the wall next to his table would have looked nice in his house. Not the clean but shabby apartment he lived in now, the bright, spacious house he’d been too terrified to return to after he’d discovered the sickening tableaux Hannibal had left for him.

A man and a woman approached his table after what seemed like an eternity. They were dressed in clothing similar to his, unremarkable and not a bit out of place.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to eat,” the woman said, taking one of the seats across from him. The man sat next to her.

“No,” he said, and he realized his hands were clenched together. He separated them, wiping his clammy palms on his pants.

“Thank you for coming,” the man said, extending a hand. “I’m Mr. Cherry and this is Ms. Kirsch.”

“Fred,” he said. He shook their smooth, cool hands.

Cherry smiled. “We know,” he said.

“Let’s not waste any time, Fred,” Kirsch said. “Have you been hearing about the missing tourists?”

“I have, yes,” Chilton said. He knew it. He bit back a sarcastic reply. He’d learned a while ago that these people didn’t seem to appreciate or even understand sarcasm.

“We think it’s the work of sirens,” Cherry said.

Chilton blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

“You may know them from Greek mythology,” Kirsch said. “They’re beautiful women whose songs lured sailors to their deaths. Have you ever read Homer’s _Odyssey_?”

“Of course I have,” Chilton said, his voice taking on the defensive tone he’d used so often in the past and still couldn’t shake. “I just didn’t think they were actually _real_.” He realized what a stupid thing that was to say, and yet he said it every time. When would he learn that _anything_ was possible?

“We think these sirens operate somewhere around Fisherman’s Wharf,” Cherry said. Chilton was beginning to find it unnerving how they alternated sentences like that, giving each other an equal amount of time to speak. He wondered if they were human. He wondered if any of Their agents were.

“A perfect place to hide,” Kirsch said. “So crowded, especially this time of year. And with so many unusual performers, people would be too distracted to notice them.”

“What are their distinguishing features?” Chilton asked. “One would think there would be some sort of, I don’t know, _guide book_ to make this easier. How am I supposed to find them?”

“They look like uncommonly beautiful women to the average person,” Cherry said. “But you would be able to see their true form. They have birdlike attributes – look for feathers, wings, and claws. Their magic is powerful so it may take you a while to recognize them.”

Chilton nodded. Beautiful singing bird-women who liked to hang out by the water. They didn’t sound _too_ horrifying. He’d definitely seen worse, anyway.

“Here’s everything you need,” Kirsch said, passing him a faded black backpack. He already knew what it would contain: the special bullets and tiny metal vials that they insisted he use to store the remains of his prey. He’d seen it happen, watched as the creatures turned into mist and then jewels.

 “Bring them to the bakery when you have them,” Cherry said, and he and Kirsch stood up.

Though the initial meeting places and the agents who contacted him were always different, the drop-off was always the bakery. Dee’s Delights didn’t seem like anything out of the ordinary, aside from the way they always knew just when to expect him. He didn’t want to think too much about how they knew.

“Good luck, Fred,” Kirsch said. She and Cherry turned and walked out of the restaurant, their steps echoing in perfect unison. Chilton suppressed a shiver.

He’d been doing this for six months now and each time he was contacted he became even more convinced he’d never get used to it. He was a lot better than he’d been at first, though. At first he’d flat-out refused to believe it. Refused to believe _any_ of it – the near-miraculous recoveries, the strangers who seemed to know him, the… _things_ he could now see. Things he’d never believed in before.

At some point he became convinced that he must have had a breakdown somewhere along the way, and that he could no longer distinguish between the vivid hallucinations and reality. He’d been through so much, of _course_ he had to have some form of PTSD. In fact, he wondered why it hadn’t happened sooner. Just because he was an expert in psychiatry didn’t mean he was immune to mental disorders himself. None of the medication or coping techniques had worked, though. In fact, the hallucinations were getting more and more frequent, and the people who knew his name seemed more insistent that he talk to them. There had been a rough few days when he was convinced that this was all a coma dream, or that perhaps he was dead for real this time and this was some sort of horrible afterlife.

It was nearly two months after moving to San Francisco that he decided he was done with pretending not to see things other people couldn’t and dodging every stranger who looked at him for too long. That time, when a teenage boy in a basketball jersey fell into step beside him and asked “Hey Fred, wanna go get some ice cream?” he agreed.

The ice cream place he’d taken him to was a chain and looked completely unremarkable. The boy ordered ice cream – somehow he knew to get vegan ice cream for Chilton, but as he passed it to him he whispered, “You know, you _can_ actually eat animal proteins now.”

Chilton went pale, but before he could ask the boy any questions, he was leading him to a door behind the counter. No one seemed to care or even notice.

Chilton learned a lot in the stock room of the ice cream shop that day. The boy and his friends – who Chilton could tell were not really teenagers, and he was pretty sure were not even human – explained that he’d died three times. _That_ he could believe – he’d been so badly injured that “dying” for a few seconds sounded completely plausible. It was what they said next that nearly caused him to run out of the shop and find a new psychiatrist.

“Because They saved you those times, you have to work for Them now,” the boy in the jersey said. He’d introduced himself as Trevor.

“And what is it I have to do, exactly?” Chilton asked, trying to keep the frosty tone in his voice. He didn’t want them to perceive him as weak or, god forbid, to realize he was terrified. “Who are ‘They’?”

“You have to help Them hunt down rogues,” Trevor’s friend Jamie said. “Spirits who haven’t crossed to the other side. Demons. Vampires. Werewolves. Pretty much any supernatural or mythological creature you’ve ever heard of is real, Fred, and you are one of the rare few who can see them, see into the other world. It happens when you die, especially more than once.”

“They saved your life, Fred,” Trevor said. “Haven’t you ever questioned how you survived all that? How you survived and recovered so well? No major problems from your evisceration. No brain damage from the bullet. You should have died from the burns – a healthy person would not have survived that, let alone someone with only one kidney. They saved you three times, Fred, and now you owe Them.”

“You still haven’t answered exactly who _they_ are,” Chilton said, cringing at the way his voice sounded, nauseatingly whiny to his own ears.

“That’s not important,” another of Trevor’s friends said. “What’s important is that you do as They say. There will be consequences if you don’t.”

“I don’t know the first thing about ‘hunting’ anyone – I’m sure _they_ must know about my pitiful attempts to capture Hannibal Lecter – so I fail to see how I can be of much help. And it’s been established that I’m nothing but a coward.” God, he was tired. And frightened. He’d come here to live a quiet life, to get away from the horror he’d faced back in Baltimore. He’d been paranoid about that horror following him, but he’d never imagined he’d be facing a _new_ kind of horror.

“You’ll be better at it than you think,” Jamie said. The look he gave Chilton made him feel so exposed, as if this boy – or whatever he really was – could see his entire life, past and future.

“And if I refuse?”

“They take away Their gift,” Trevor said. His eyes bore into Chilton’s and he barely managed to suppress a shudder.

“I think I will take my chances,” he said, standing abruptly. “I’ve heard enough of this.”

He heard one of them say “That’s unfortunate” as he hurried for the door, but he didn’t turn back. He burst out into the sunshine and ran until his legs were tired from the steep hills. He stood, panting, waiting for a cab to take him the rest of the way to his apartment.

The stomach ache started the next day. He figured he’d gotten the flu or maybe even food poisoning from that “vegan ice cream” they’d fed him yesterday. Why had he been so stupid?

He tried to ride it out – he’d had enough of doctors to last him several lifetimes – but it had become so bad by that night that he could barely move. And now other things were hurting, too. The place where his stomach scar had been before the skin grafts felt like someone had dragged a toothpick dipped in acid over it. His cheek throbbed and his bad eye was leaking some sort of milky fluid. He felt it drip down his cheek, mingling with the tears that had begun to stream down his face.

He could barely lift his head when he first heard the noise through his haze of pain. Was that a person?

“You were warned They’d take it back.” The stern female voice drove stakes of pain through his head. “Is this how you want to die?”

“Help,” he said, his voice a barely-audible croak.

“Only if you agree to what They’ve asked,” the woman said. “Just agree and They’ll give your life back.”

He didn’t want to die, especially not like this. It was as if they’d found some way to combine all the pain he’d felt in his life into one concentrated ball of agony. “I agree,” he managed to say, right before his vision went black.

He woke the next day to find an envelope on his bedside table. He felt so good that he almost started crying from the relief. If it weren’t for the envelope he’d be convinced it was all some horrible fever dream, but he knew better. From now on, everything was real.

***

He took a cab to Fisherman’s Wharf the day after his Golden Lotus meeting. Despite the overcast sky and too-cold-for-summer breeze, it was filled with people. Children tugged on their parents’ hands, pointing into the distance. Couples walked along with their hair whipping in the wind and their bodies pressed tightly together. He could see why the sirens would choose this place; aside from being next to the ocean, there were so many tourists around that they probably had no trouble at all luring people to them.

Making  a circle around the place and see if he noticed anything out of the ordinary was a solid approach. He pulled the hood of the thick Berkeley hoodie low over his forehead, glad that it was cool enough out that it didn’t look too out-of-place.

He walked slowly, carefully scanning his surroundings. He’d only been here once before, and that was enough. He knew a tourist trap when he saw one. He walked past tacky “museums” and living statues spray-painted silver and gold, past endless seafood restaurants and arcades and souvenir shops. The smell of fish was pervasive.

After completing his circuit, he was unsure of what to do next. He hadn’t seen anyone or anything remotely siren-like, and the occasional dirty looks he’d gotten from paying special attention to attractive women had not been worth it. Maybe they only came out at night. Maybe they were resting, or - his blood went cold at the thought of what else they might be doing.

He resigned himself to the fact that he’d have to talk to people, ask if they’d seen anything out of the ordinary. He was so terrible at playing detective, so awkward. He couldn’t believe he was thinking this but he wished he could be more like Freddie Lounds. Now there was someone who could find out anything.

He walked into one of the open-front souvenir shops and stopped when he saw the newspaper. _Another Goes Missing at Fisherman’s Wharf_ , the headline read. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all. He grabbed a copy and walked up to the counter where a middle-aged woman was staring intently at her phone.

“Just this,” he said, laying the paper on the counter. “Odd about all these disappearances, isn’t it?”

“Hope we don’t have another Zodiac,” she said.

“What makes you say that?” Chilton asked, leaning closer to the woman, hoping to make her feel like they were sharing a secret. “Have you seen anyone unusual around here?”

She laughed, a loud, barking “HA!” and added, “This is San Francisco, honey.”

“You’re right,” Chilton said with a smile, trying not to show his disappointment. Oh well. Maybe the newspaper article would yield some clues.

He looked around some more, found nothing else of interest, and took a cab back to his neighborhood. Rather than go home, though, he asked the driver to stop at his favorite diner. On the outside Molly’s Diner was no different than any of the other diners in the area, and the food certainly wasn’t any better, but there was something about it that made Chilton feel safe. He never felt like he was being watched there. It had… “good vibes,” he supposed.

He settled into the worn seat of his favorite booth with his newspaper and felt a warm glow when he saw Crina heading toward him. She was on the older end of middle age and there was something so grandmotherly and comforting about her. It was almost as if she knew what he’d been through, but she’d never mentioned it if she did. She treated him kindly but without a trace of pity, and sometimes she gave him free dessert. She definitely belonged in this place.

“How are you, Fred?” she asked, placing a mug of coffee in front of him. Black and extra sweet, just the way he liked it.

“I’m doing well, Crina, thank you,” he said, giving her a smile. She was one of the few people he knew who made him want to smile. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” she said, but Chilton thought he saw a flash of something in her eyes, something that told him she was the furthest thing from fine. The next second it was gone, though, so he couldn’t be sure if it was ever there in the first place.

“Can I get anything else for you?” she asked.

“No, thank you,” Chilton said, and opened the newspaper as soon as she left. The article was shorter than he’d hoped but it was better than nothing. Emile DeCurtis, 43,of Bloomfield,  New Jersey, had disappeared last Friday. He’d told his family that he forgot something at the hotel and that he’d meet them for dinner, but he never showed up. He was a good husband and father, they said, and had never been in trouble with the law. He’d never had trouble with anyone, in fact, and they couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to hurt him. The article went on to talk about some of the other Fisherman’s Wharf disappearances – DeCurtis made six this month. All nice family men, all tourists. None of them had any reason to want to disappear.

“Oh, that’s horrible,” Crina said when she came over to refill Chilton’s coffee. She gestured to the newspaper. “There’s something bad in town. I can feel it.”

“Can you?” Chilton asked. He hadn’t thought to ask Crina about this, didn’t want to upset her. This diner was one of his few happy places, and aside from that, he genuinely cared about her.

“People call me superstitious,” she said, “but back home – I was born in Romania – many people believe in this sort of thing. In other things too, things you’ve never even heard of. Not just Dracula.”

He returned her smile, thinking, _Oh, you’d be surprised_.

“I can tell there’s something bad here,” she said. “That’s what happened to them. Be careful out there, Fred.” She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze – she was the only person whose touch he didn’t shrink from – and set the refilled cup in front of him. “Enjoy.”

He watched her walk away and picked up the newspaper again. He might as well savor one more cup of coffee in this bright diner. His gloomy apartment could wait.

***

He did some online research that evening, and managed to find a few articles about some of the other missing people. None of the information was very helpful, though. Nothing to add to his notes, which he’d started to keep in a well-organized group of files on his laptop. This business was all he had now that he was no longer practicing psychiatry and he was going to do it as well as he could.

He sighed. He had to admit that there was nothing more to do here at home, and it was only nine o’clock. As much as he hated the idea, he’d have to go back to Fisherman’s Wharf tonight, as soon as possible. He ate a quick meal and stepped out into the cold, dark night.

The place seemed a lot less friendly at night. It was brightly lit, and the crowd had only thinned a little, but something had changed. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it felt like a completely different place. He shivered at the cold breeze that blew in off the water. Maybe the sirens were here tonight.

He walked along the sidewalks, trying to look for groups of women. Apparently he would be able to see their “birdlike attributes,” whatever those were, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Cherry and Kirsch hadn’t mentioned _how_ they knew sirens were responsible for the disappearances, but then no one had ever told him how they knew. He was always expected to just swallow whatever They told him and do what They asked.

He was about to go home in frustration when he noticed the two men stumble right into a woman as if they hadn’t seen her at all, though they’d been facing her. “Watch where you’re going!” she shouted, but they didn’t turn back. _That_ was certainly unusual behavior. He watched as they walked right into the street, narrowly avoiding a car. Maybe they were on drugs, but maybe it was something else. It would be worth it to follow them.

Chilton kept a safe distance, but he didn’t think there was any danger of them noticing him. It didn’t look like they were noticing _anything_. As he followed them he realized that other men were walking in the same direction with the same blank stares. He felt a ball of anxiety form in his gut.

The men led him closer to the water, and he saw that a crowd had formed by the docks. They were watching a group of three buskers, all young women who were singing a cappella. They were dressed in short dresses despite the cold, with knee-high gladiator sandals winding around their tanned legs. They may have been street performers but the way they danced and interacted with the crowd was reminiscent of seasoned pop stars. He was convinced they were the sirens even before he noticed that their feet had grown talons.

His stomach lurched when he saw and he quickly averted his eyes before they could realize that he’d noticed. He wondered if he would ever really be used to this, if he’d ever stop being shocked when he came across someone who clearly wasn’t human.

He would never forget the first time he saw one of the beings. He’d been wandering the streets of his neighborhood, trying to see if he could make it home without the use of a map or his phone. He was doing pretty well until he took a wrong turn and ended up on a street with a smashed streetlight. None of the neon signs had been lit, either, though it was well past dark. He turned to retrace his steps but froze when he heard the giggle behind him. Goosebumps formed on his arms as he stood there, too scared to think of what to do. This had been a terrible idea.

Before he could do any more thinking he whipped around, hands balled into fists. “Who’s there?” he asked, wincing at the way his voice sounded. Not very threatening.

Another giggle, too guttural to be that of a child. He heard scampering footsteps approach and started to back away when it came into view. His breath caught in his throat. It was a hideous little creature, misshapen and lumpy, and its skin was a grey-green. It was definitely not human.

He let out a whimper and continued to back away, certain that if he turned his back on the creature it would come after him. “Stay away,” he said in a voice that was supposed to be menacing but came out high and shaky. What the hell was this? Had all of his trauma finally caught up with him and broken his mind at last?

The creature only looked at him, its head tilted. It didn’t follow. When he reached the intersection with its beautiful bright lights, the creature turned around and went back the way it had come. Chilton watched as it receded into the darkness and then took off at a run.

When he told the boys at the ice cream parlor about what he’d seen, they’d laughed. “Oh, that was only a hobgoblin,” Trevor had said. “They’re mostly harmless. Trust me, we’ll never send you after one of those.”

It hadn’t been very reassuring.

These sirens didn’t look as horrifying as the hobgoblin had, but he knew they were far more dangerous. They’d killed several people already and had probably already picked out their next victim from this crowd of rapt faces. How could he stop them with all these people around? A sinking feeling overtook him as he realized what he had to do. It would be risky, but he couldn’t think of any other way.

He slowly pushed his way to the front of the crowd, hoping the sirens would notice the glassy-eyed lust he was trying desperately to project. Being nearly immune to the influence of supernatural creatures was one of the better side effects of having died three times. If he had to see them and know they existed, at least he’d be harder for them to lure into their traps.

They sang a few more songs, and during the last, Chilton could see one of them scanning the crowd. He stared at her, following her gaze, and he felt his stomach flip when her eyes finally met his. He may have been less easily influenced that the average person, but her eyes were still unnerving. The pupils glowed bright gold for a split second, and he knew he had her.

“We’re going to call it a night, but thanks so much for your support,” the gold-eyed siren said. Her gaze flicked back to Chilton before returning to the other faces in the crowd. They began to walk away slowly, some throwing money into the three hats that lay on the ground in front of the women.

“How about we go somewhere private?” the gold-eyed siren whispered to Chilton as she walked by. “And you can get to know all three of us.”

“Sounds perfect,” he said, his heart pounding. He felt the reassuring weight of the gun strapped to his leg, loaded with bullets made of some mysterious metal, but he was still afraid. Would he ever _not_ be afraid?

He followed the sirens for what felt like miles, the bright lights of the wharf growing dimmer in the distance. They lived in a shabbier part of town, in a seedy-looking building whose neon sign was only half-lit.

“I’m Nina, by the way,” the leader said when they got to their apartment. It was dimly-lit and smelled faintly of incense.

“I’m Lyssa, and this is Isobel,” the one with the waist-length hair said. Her voice was just as sweet as Nina’s, but with a husky quality that Chilton found irresistible. He was genuinely attracted to her, and he wished he could… No, too dangerous. He had to destroy all of them. They thought they were going to kill him, after all.

He felt a mix of delight and horror when she put her arm around him. “Can I have this one?” she asked the others, a playful pleading tone to her voice.

“I can tell you like him,” Isobel said with a grin. “Let’s let her have a turn first, Nina.”

“I guess,” Nina said, with an exaggerated sigh. “Just leave us some leftovers, okay?”

“Sure thing.” Lyssa smiled at Chilton, and he saw the gold flash in her pupils. “You’re about to be one very lucky man.”

His heart pounded as she pulled off his hoodie and grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt. What about the gun? “Let’s do it with clothes on,” he said. “I find that sort of thrilling, don’t you?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Whatever you like,” she said. She pushed him onto the bed with surprising force and pressed her body to his. “Let’s see what you’ve got in those pants.”

His legs were tangled up in hers. Any second now she’d feel the gun. He had to act fast, but before he could move he felt her hand reach under his waistband and grip his cock. He sucked in air through his teeth as if in pain – he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched by hands other than his own, and she _was_ beautiful. If the circumstances were any different he’d be overjoyed right now.

“Oh wow,” she said, and Chilton knew she was putting on an act to make sure he was good and seduced, but he didn’t care; he was never one to reject flattery. He ran an experimental hand down his pant leg. He could probably get the gun pretty quickly without her noticing. Maybe he’d wait a bit, though. He knew that was stupid, knew it was dangerous – he’d never learned _how_ they killed their victims, after all – but something in him didn’t want this to stop. When would he get another chance like this?

He let out a quiet moan as she pushed his jeans and underwear down slightly, freeing his erection. There was no turning back now, was there? He kept one hand on his leg as she stroked his cock, still staring into his eyes with that hungry grin.

“You like this?” she asked, and he shivered as he felt her fingernails brush the tip lightly.

“Yeah,” he managed to pant, and her eyes glowed even brighter.

“Would you like this?” she asked, lifting her short skirt. He could see that the feathers went nearly to her thighs, but other than that she seemed to have everything a human woman had.

Oh god, _would_ he. But he shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t, and yet he did nothing to stop her as she lowered herself onto him. She was slippery and warm, and he could feel the heat coming off her as she pressed herself closer to him. He couldn’t help but thrust, and he felt the talons that had once been her fingernails dig into his shoulder. This was unlike any sex he’d ever had. She’d begun to sing as they moved, and it was as if she were using her song to paint pictures in his head, bold strokes of teal and gold, galaxies of glitter and bottomless pools of swirling water. He almost _felt_ the water now as his body tensed for release, felt as though they were both on a raft bobbing in a stormy sea, and when he opened his eyes he saw that her face had changed, that her teeth had grown sharp and her eyes glowed with a golden fire.

He reached for the gun with a desperate shriek and in the second before he pulled the trigger he could see that her face had changed back to the beautiful one it had been, but then it was gone, she was gone, and he was lying on the bed alone drenched in his own sweat. A few feathers floated through the remnants of the mist the creature had left, then disappeared.

He heard an unearthly screech from the living room and tried to steady his hands as the other two sirens burst into the room. Their faces had become monstrous like Lyssa’s had, and they leapt toward him, talons flashing. He fired at them, blind with fear, and then it was over and they’d disappeared like Lyssa. He was alone in the room, his panting thunderous in the silence.

Cheeks burning, he tucked his now-flaccid penis back into his underwear and buttoned his jeans. This was the last time he’d have sex with someone dangerous. He really meant it this time. It just wasn’t worth it.

It didn’t take him long to find their jewels – all bright gold like their eyes – and he pocketed them, forcing himself to take deep, slow breaths. He’d done it. It was over now and all he had to do was get out of here and get home.


	2. Chapter 2

He woke up a little after noon the next day, and at first he didn’t remember how he’d gotten there or what had happened. He sat up, running a hand through his messy hair, and it hit him all at once. He’d gotten the sirens. That had to be the fastest he’d ever completed a job – not that it made any difference, as he’d never received feedback from Them, good or bad – but he still felt an overwhelming sense of relief. He’d put the jewels on the bedside table, too exhausted to even think about what else to do. He gathered them and carefully placed each one into its own vial. Dee’s Delights would be waiting for him, but for now, he desperately needed a shower, some food, and about five years’ worth of sleep.

***

Later that afternoon, after making his delivery at the bakery, he stopped at Molly’s Diner. Crina was there, and she smiled when she saw him, but the troubled look he’d seen in her eyes the other night hadn’t disappeared.

“You look like you’re in a good mood,” she said, setting the cup of coffee in front of him.

“I am,” he said. “Is everything okay with you?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, but as she turned her head Chilton noticed that her eyes were shining with tears.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“No, it’s okay,” she said. She looked around the diner and sat down across from him when she was satisfied no one needed her attention. “The truth is… my son is missing. I haven’t heard from him for weeks, and when I went to his apartment the other day his neighbors said they haven’t seen him. I think someone took him.”

“I’m so sorry,” Chilton said. “Have you contacted the police?”

“Yes, but they haven’t helped at all. I really didn’t want to bother you, Fred, but…” she avoided his eyes. “I’ve heard some things about you. I think I know what it is you do.”

Chilton went pale. There was no way she could know. He knew she had some unusual beliefs, but how could she possibly suspect what he did? She had to have some other idea about him – maybe she thought he was a private detective or something. That had to be it.

He realized that she was still looking at him expectantly. “What do you mean?” he asked, trying to keep his voice level. He focused his eyes on the swirling orange pattern of the tabletop.

“You go after dark things,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. He felt her hand on his and looked up to see that her eyes were huge. “Things only a few of us believe in. I think my son is somehow involved with these things.”

“How did you know about me?” he asked. He felt panic rising in his chest. If Crina could find out, could other people? People who were a lot less friendly? He realized that his sense of security and anonymity was slipping away at an alarming rate. Maybe he was an idiot to ever assume he was safe. Why hadn’t he learned from his past?

“I have friends who are even more superstitious than I am,” she said. “One of them told me about a man who got the ghost in her house to leave her alone. The way she described him sounded just like you. I knew it would be a big coincidence, but somehow I just _knew_. I felt it. Sometimes I can feel things.”

Chilton’s shoulders relaxed. He remembered that woman and her ghost. Crina could very well have some sort of gift – nothing was impossible anymore – and he’d gladly accept this explanation.

“So, how can I hire you?” she asked. “I’m afraid I don’t have a lot of money, especially since Edgar passed away, but I’ll find some way to repay you.”

He heard true desperation in her words and struggled not to let his feelings bubble to the surface. “Crina, you won’t owe me anything,” he said. He looked into her eyes and tried to smile. “But I’m going to have to ask you not to mention me to anyone.”

“Oh, of course,” she said.

“I cannot guarantee anything,” he said. “Now, please tell me everything you know or suspect about your son and his disappearance.”

He went home that night happy to be able to relax but troubled by thoughts of Crina’s son. Andrei had exhibited some strange behavior before he left, but he wasn’t sure it had anything to do with the supernatural. He didn’t want to tell Crina but it sounded like he’d just fallen in with a bad crowd – coming home late or not at all, violent temper… and then there was the matter of the strange things he’d been saying. Things about the world changing, about how soon everyone would see the truth. He sounded paranoid more than anything, and was probably using drugs. She’d said he didn’t look like himself. He hoped he could find and save him, but he had a bad feeling he wouldn’t be able to. Getting rid of supernatural creatures was one thing; breaking someone’s very earthly addiction was something else entirely.

***

Chilton was buying groceries when the next contact came. The cashier seemed normal enough, but he got a chill when she looked at him. She handed him his receipt and pointed to the bottom. “Fill out this survey to win $500,” she said, and her stare was so intense that he had to look away.

“Thanks,” he said, snatching the receipt and hurrying toward the door. He pulled out his reading glasses and started at the bottom of the receipt. Right under the website containing the survey it said:

_COME TO O’BRIEN’S PUB TOMORROW AT 8:00 PM_

He sighed, folding up the receipt and pocketing it. It had to come sooner or later, but he’d been dreading it. It seemed as if the jobs were getting closer together. Were they noticing what a good job he was doing or were there more supernatural creatures about than usual? Was he the only one doing this? Surely he couldn’t be the first, but why hadn’t he ever met or heard of anyone else? He’d asked the agents about it once, but they’d blatantly ignored him, even when he’d repeated himself.

He’d always liked working alone – more glory for him that way – but that was before. Before he’d known true horror. And it wasn’t like this job offered any kind of recognition, especially if he’d never see another of his kind. There’d be no one to brag to. He knew he was still the same old coward deep down – only now he had no choice but to do what they asked. He’d seen what happened when he didn’t, and he knew running away wouldn’t help.

He left for O’Brien’s early the next night, just as the sun was setting. Another foggy evening. He watched as the world deepened into darker shades of grey, wondering what else could be out there waiting for him. He hadn’t had any of the same creatures so far – even the ghosts he’d dealt with had seemed like different types. What else could be left? He knew he’d regret asking that question, but he still had a curious streak that he knew would never go away.

He found the pub and made his way to the bar. He knew he’d need a drink to steady his nerves for whatever dreadful story awaited him that night. The place was filled with a lively crowd and had a friendly atmosphere, but he still felt uneasy. He knew he’d never get used to this enough to relax before a  meeting, but he did what he could to cope. He downed his scotch with a gulp and checked his watch: ten minutes until the meeting time.

He felt a tap on his shoulder the moment his watch’s second hand indicated it was eight o’clock. The man who’d done the tapping was incredibly tall and somber-looking – actually, Chilton realized, he bore a striking resemblance to Lurch from _The Addams Family_. He’d find that funny if he weren’t so anxious.

“Come with me, Fred,” he said, and led him to the only empty booth near the back wall of the pub. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the spots They chose, and it drove Chilton mad that he couldn’t figure out a pattern. Maybe that was the point. Maybe They wanted to keep him on his toes.

“Call me Mr. Dombey,” he said, extending a hand so huge it made Chilton’s look small. “I suppose you know that I’m here to tell you about another job They have for you.”

“Of course,” Chilton said with one of his smarmiest smiles. “I didn’t think it was to tell me I’ve been doing a good job and That they’re offering me a promotion or anything like that.”

Dombey blinked at him, expression blank.

“Never mind,” Chilton said. He knew They never got his jokes but sometimes he just couldn’t help himself. “What is it I have the pleasure of pursuing this time?”

“Have you heard of the Krasue?” Dombey asked.

“Can’t say that I have, no,” Chilton said. He hoped it wasn’t anything too awful, but he wasn’t holding his breath.

“It’s a spirit with origins in Southeast Asia,” he said. “Very easily identifiable. It has a woman’s head but, instead of a body, its entrails hang from its neck. It floats through the air and emits a glow, so it’s hard to miss.”

Chilton wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. That was utterly horrific. He felt his flippant mood slip away.

“It’s been spotted in an apartment building. We’ve gotten you a temporary room there on the floor where it was last seen. The Krasue usually only comes out at night so it would be ideal if you could be there as much as possible.” He slid a set of keys across the table, as well as a box of bullets. They always gave him an insultingly large number of them.

Chilton pocketed them, feeling the dread pool at the bottom of his stomach. The Krasue sounded easier to get rid of than a group of sirens but its description brought back memories of things he never wanted to think about again. Disgusting, bloody, visceral images he’d been trying desperately to push back into darkness.

“They’d like you to start tonight,” Dombey said, standing up. “Your room number is on the keys.” And without another word, he walked out of the pub into the night.

***

Chilton went back to his apartment to pack. He had no idea how long this would take but being too prepared was always better than the alternative. He loaded his suitcase into the back of the cab when it came, refusing the driver’s help, and watched the city lights flash by.

Del Mar Apartments was an ultramodern, towering building of black glass in an upscale, well-lit neighborhood. Nothing about the area seemed ominous or creepy, but Chilton knew better. Terrifying monsters didn’t limit themselves to dark alleys and run-down Victorians. He’d seen them in candy stores and quaint little cafes, too. Not to mention planetariums and the dining rooms of wealthy European aesthetes.

The dread had become a hard knot in his stomach by the time he arrived at the door to his temporary apartment. It was a really nice place – the old Chilton would have loved it – but he liked his own little apartment much more. It felt more like home than anywhere he’d ever lived, maybe because it wasn’t a pristine white space filled with expensive things that made it impossible to relax in. Why had he never noticed how clinical that was? He’d had enough of hospitals to last him a lifetime. The idea of staying in this apartment instead of sleeping in his own bed only increased his uneasiness.

He left the suitcase by the door and walked through the apartment, investigating every room, closet, and cabinet. The place was fully furnished but it didn’t seem as if anyone actually _lived_ there. It was more of a hotel room than an apartment. At least, he was relieved to see, there was no trace of anything supernatural.

He took out his laptop and searched for information on the Krasue. Aside from the Wikipedia page and a few Thai horror films, there wasn’t much. If this thing was from Asia, what was it doing here? Maybe people from the area where it originated were living here. He’d have to find a way to ask around the next day.

First, though, he’d do a quick check around the hallways of the building. He kept his hand on his gun as he eased the door open and looked around. He had to make himself calm down and stop being so jumpy, but that was much easier said than done. He took a deep breath and released it slowly, then shut the door and walked out into the hallway.

It was clean, quiet, and bright, with healthy-looking potted plants at the end of the hall and absolutely no sign of anything other than comfort, wealth, and good taste.

He returned to his temporary apartment, unsure of what to do next. It was nearing eleven but he knew he’d need to stay up for the next few nights because apparently that was the only time this thing was active. As usual, they hadn’t given him much notice. What if he decided to go on vacation or had to leave town for some reason? Was he _allowed_ to take vacations? He sighed and walked over to the coffee machine he’d spotted in the kitchen. At least they’d done him _that_ service. Still, it was going to be a long night.

***

He made it until six the next morning, then figured that the Krasue wasn’t going to show itself in the thirty minutes before the sun rose and fell asleep almost immediately after getting into bed. He’d stayed awake with coffee, television, and hourly trips around the apartment building. Still no sign of anything weird.

He woke with a jolt when his alarm went off at noon the next day, the last shreds of his dream dissolving as he forced himself out of the bed and into the shower. He could only remember the emotions of the dream, but they were frightening and intense. He’d had many such dreams over the years and, while he could tell they were unpleasant, he was grateful he could never remember the details.

He was glad he’d brought some of his nicer clothes, because his face looked terrible. His eyes were red – the damaged one more so, even after he’d put the contact in – and his skin had a pale, washed-out look. Even so, as long as he combed his hair and put fresh clothes on he was sure he wouldn’t seem too odd or suspicious to his temporary neighbors.

The best course of action would be to make two rounds – one now and one after six, when people would be home from work. He’d ask if any of them had seen anything strange and glowing at night. That would probably get him some odd looks, but he didn’t care.

He hesitated before knocking on the first door, took a deep breath, then went for it. After a few seconds a 30-ish woman answered with a puzzled expression. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“I just moved in,” Chilton said. “And I was just curious… have you noticed anything weird at night? Weird sounds or lights or anything? I just want to know if it’s just me.” He gave her what he hoped was a friendly smile.

“Nothing like that at all. It’s very quiet here,” she said. Chilton could feel how much she wanted to close the door so he thanked her and flashed another smile.

After a few more tries, he wandered back to his own apartment. The people living in this building weren’t exactly friendly. It wasn’t that they were rich and snobby, they just seemed like they really valued their privacy. They probably didn’t even know each other and preferred it that way. Maybe the evening crowd would be better? He made a note of which doors he’d checked and opened his laptop to record what he’d done so far.

That evening, Chilton decided to wait near the elevator so he could catch people coming home from work. The first two _were_ rude – one of them blatantly ignored him – but the third stopped in his tracks and stared at him.

“You mean you’ve seen it too?” he asked, after looking around to make sure none of his neighbors could hear him talking to this stranger.

Chilton’s heart sped up. Finally. “I’ve seen _something_ ,” he said. “I hope I’m not hallucinating. This may sounds strange, but it looks kind of like a woman’s head?”

The color in the man’s face drained so quickly that Chilton was afraid he was going to pass out. “So it _is_ real,” he whispered, a look of faraway horror on his face. It was as if he’d forgotten Chilton was there.

“You know what it is?” he asked, desperately hoping the man wouldn’t keel over in front of him. That would be bad.

“In my country it’s called a Krasue,” he said. “Thailand. I moved from there ten years ago. I never thought it was real, it’s just a silly story, like a vampire? But then the other night, I saw it.” He gripped Chilton’s arm with a sweaty, claw-like hand. “What do you know about it?”

“I know it’s very dangerous,” Chilton said, trying not to show his displeasure at the man’s grip. He was a good deal heavier than Chilton and he was sure he’d go down with him if he did pass out. “But according to my extensive research, it mostly likes pregnant women and people who have been recently injured. It craves the blood. Does that describe you or anyone you live with?”

“I live alone,” the man said. “But I got my appendix removed a week ago. Do you think that could be it?” He shook his head. “Of course it finds the only Thai man in this building. Just my luck. I knew I could never really leave it behind.”

“I have a way to get rid of it,” Chilton said. “But we both have to be ready when it returns.” He really didn’t want to have to ask this, but the man was terrified so he supposed that made it easier. “Do you think I could stay at your place tonight? To keep watch? I’m not going to sleep tonight anyway and you’re the only one who’s seen it that I’m aware of.”

“I was going to ask you to stay,” the man said, removing his hand from Chilton’s arm. He wiped at the sweat that had formed on his forehead. The color was coming back into his cheeks; a good sign.

“Just let me know when you would like me to come over,” Chilton said. “I’m sure you have some things to take care of.”

“Would an hour be OK, Mr.…?”

“Just call me Fred,” Chilton said. “Yes, an hour would be fine.”

“I’m Sunan,” the man said. He held out his sweaty hand. “Thank you for helping me.”

***

Sunan’s apartment was neat and completely ordinary. He showed Chilton where he’d seen the Krasue, just outside his bedroom window. It hadn’t come inside, just hovered at the window, staring in. None of Chilton’s research had told him whether it could penetrate solid objects but if it was a ghost he didn’t see why not. Did it just want to scare him? Either way, he would be getting rid of it as soon as he saw it.

He brought his laptop to spare himself the awkwardness of hanging around the apartment with nothing to do. He thought he could work on his Krasue files, but in the back of his mind he knew he’d be too nervous to get any real work done. Sunan was also working on his laptop – he’d told Chilton he was involved in marketing, so it was probably something job-related – and the two of them sat at opposite ends of the kitchen table, their hands typing and clicking away. The ominous mood was pervasive, and neither of the men felt like chatting. Chilton wondered if Sunan was also having trouble concentrating as he closed the Krasue folder and opened a game of solitaire.

“I’m going to go to bed now,” Sunan said at ten o’clock, and Chilton nodded.

“I will be staying up all night,” he said. “If I see the Krasue, I’ll destroy it. If I don’t see it by the time the sun rises, I’ll go back to my own apartment. I’ll try to be quiet.”

“I don’t care if you wake me, just as long as that thing is gone,” Sunan said, but they both knew he wasn’t going to get any sleep that night.

It was three o’clock and still no sign of the Krasue. Chilton paced the apartment, turned on the TV, turned it back off, drank several cups of coffee, and checked his usually-silent phone twenty times. What if it didn’t show up tonight, or ever again? What if it decided to haunt someone else – someone less willing to let a stranger enter their home than Sunan?

His heart sped up when he heard a noise outside the door near 4:30, but a look through the peephole showed that it was only another neighbor, falling-down drunk by the looks of it. Interesting. He almost wished he _did_ live here, because the other people seemed to lead such _intriguing_ lives, each one a mystery. His own apartment was above a real estate office and his one neighbor was an old retired man who never did anything. He liked the seclusion that the apartment allowed him, but he often thought it would be nice to have people to observe. Sometimes he missed his patients.

There was still no sign of the Krasue by the time the sun rose, so Chilton gathered his things and left as quietly as he could. He left a note for Sunan that included his phone and apartment numbers, hoping he’d let him spend the next night there too. As much as he dreaded seeing the Krasue, he hoped it would show up soon so he could get this over with.

Sunan called him the next evening, shortly after the time he’d gone to his apartment on the previous day. His voice shook as he spoke, and Chilton felt his stomach clench. He was on edge about something but insisted Chilton come over right away rather than explain over the phone.

Chilton arrived at Sunan’s apartment, prepared for the worst, but he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Sunan looked pale though, and shut and locked the door behind Chilton as soon as he came in. “I had a dream about it last night,” he said before Chilton could put any of his things down. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. I’m sure it’s going to come tonight.”

Chilton nodded. He’d never believed in prophetic dreams, but that was before, of course. Now he took everything seriously. “Tomorrow is Saturday,” he said. “Do you have any obligations?”

“No,” Sunan said. “Thank goodness. I don’t think I can sleep tonight.” He looked exhausted, and Chilton felt for him.

“Maybe you should try to sleep on the couch,” he said. “I’ll be walking around the rest of the apartment. Would you feel safer that way?”

“I could try,” Sunan said, but he sounded uncertain. Still, it had to have made him feel better than sleeping in his own dark bedroom. It would certainly make Chilton feel better, anyway. He kept the TV on until midnight, then wrapped the blankets around himself. Chilton noticed that he did not turn off the lamp next to the couch.

Chilton was in the kitchen at 2:36 AM when he felt his skin prickle. He could tell something wasn’t right, so he rushed to the living room, gun drawn. To his surprise, Sunan seemed to be asleep, but as he stood watching him his eyes snapped open and he screamed. Chilton opened his mouth to tell him that it was okay, but he kept screaming. He whirled around.

He felt his blood turn to ice and nearly dropped his gun when he saw the floating, luminous figure. It was exactly as he’d read, but somehow much worse in person. The woman’s face was beautiful, but the viscera hanging below the neck was vomit-inducing. The smell – which had been left out of the descriptions he’d read – brought him right back to his kitchen on the day Hannibal Lecter had tried to ruin his life.

He fought to keep calm as he used his weak, shaking hands to aim his gun. The Krasue’s eyes narrowed and it sped off to the right. “Of course it has to be smart,” he muttered.  He kept his gun trained on it as it flew through the apartment.

Sunan was mumbling something in what Chilton assumed was Thai behind him, the same thing over and over from the sound of it. His voice was high and he was hyperventilating.

“Just stay there,” Chilton said, not daring to take his eyes off the Krasue. He had no idea if Sunan heard him or not.

The hideous creature dove at him then, and he screamed, nearly dropping the gun. He felt part of an intestine graze his raised arm, cold and slimy, and he had to fight not to gag. He aimed for it and fired, but his whole body was shaking now and he missed. It floated just under the ceiling, smiling down at him as if taunting him with its serene expression.

“It wants _me_ ,” Sunan said from the couch. “It won’t give up until it gets what it wants.”

“I’m not going to let it get you,” Chilton said. “It can’t keep dodging me all night.”

Just then it began to fly in a circle, whirling around like a ceiling fan, guts splayed out like helicopter blades. He fired again, but it didn’t slow down. Good thing this gun shot what Chilton had come to think of as a beam, somehow converted from the bullets into another kind of energy. It made it harder to miss, but he found that he still had trouble. He fired several more times, but missed his mark every time. He’d be much better at this if he had two perfectly functioning eyes.

It stopped abruptly and flew right for his face, and he let out an undignified shriek, diving out of the way just in time. Sunan had begun to scream too, and Chilton had to grab his hand and squeeze hard to make him stop. The Krasue was rising again.

“Just let it have me,” Sunan said. “I’m so sorry.”

“I am going to get it,” Chilton said through gritted teeth. He couldn’t decide which one he was more frustrated with, the floating spirit that stayed just out of his gun’s reach or the whimpering man on the couch.

He aimed at it again. He had a slim chance of guessing which direction it would move next, but that was the only way he was going to be able to get it. He didn’t think his reflexes - not to mention his damaged eyesight - were good enough to move with it, so he’d have to rely on luck. He aimed the gun and as it dove to the left, his hand moved to the right and he squeezed the trigger before he could think about it. He let out a frustrated growl as it floated toward the ceiling again.

It flew toward him again but this time he stood his ground and aimed the gun lower as it rushed toward him. He winced and pulled the trigger, willing his legs to stay steady.

Sunan let out a shriek behind him and he opened his eyes. The Krasue was nowhere to be seen. “Where did it go?” he asked, and he realized that he was nearly out of breath. He forced himself to take deeper breaths.

“It disappeared,” he said. “I think you killed it. Something fell out of it, there.” He pointed to the floor and Chilton saw the jewel, a dark garnet-colored stone. It almost slipped out of his sweaty fingers as he grabbed it and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans.

“It’s gone now,” he said. “It won’t come back.”

“Who are you?” Sunan asked, his eyes wide. This was why Chilton didn’t like witnesses.

“Just someone who knows about things,” he said. “It’s not important. What is important is that the Krasue is gone and it will never bother you again.”

“Thank you,” Sunan said. There were tears streaming down his cheeks now. He started to get up. “I have money. I can write you a check. I-“

“That won’t be necessary,” Chilton said. “I should get going. I have to go home.”

“There must be some way I can thank you,” Sunan said. He was standing in front of Chilton now and the look in his eyes was a flattering yet slightly uncomfortable mix of desperation and gratitude.

“The best thing you can do is not mention me to anyone,” Chilton said. “What I do is not… mainstream. I do not wish to be well-known.” He couldn’t help but smirk at the words that had just come from his mouth, words he’d never dreamed he’d be saying.

“You won’t accept money?” Sunan said, incredulous.

“I have all the money I need,” Chilton said. “Trust me, I wanted to rid the world of that monstrosity as much as you did. Now, if there’s nothing else I can do for you, I must get going.”

“Thank you,” Sunan said again. “A million times, thank you.”

“I am simply doing what I have to do,” Chilton said, and stepped out of the apartment without another word.


	3. Chapter 3

Chilton didn’t hear from Them again for two weeks. He could never really enjoy his days off, though – too much looking over his shoulder and wondering which random stranger was one of Their agents. Being on-call was not what he would have ever chosen for himself, but then of course he no longer had the luxury of making decisions about his own life.

He used this time to begin the search for Crina’s son. He had no social media accounts that Chilton could find, and the number Crina gave him had gone straight to voicemail every time he called. He really did seem to have disappeared from the face of the earth.

Chilton went to Andrei’s apartment building at different times of the day, but found nothing of use. He asked several of his neighbors if they’d seen him, but none of them had. Maybe it was time to check out some of the local drug dealers, but he could do that another day.

He was on his way home from one of his fruitless visits when a little girl skipped over to him. “Do you want to see my hopscotch, mister?”

“No, thank you,” he said, looking around. “Where are your parents?”

“Please look at it. I made it just for you, Fred,” she said, and he sighed inwardly. Here it was.

“Yes, please show it to me,” he said, allowing himself to be led by the hand up the girl’s driveway. There in the glimmering afternoon sun were the words “SFMOMA TOMORROW @ 3PM. MATISSE” written in pink chalk.

“Thank you, it’s very lovely,” he said, and the child beamed. He headed home, trying not to think about what else might await him.

***

The museum was crowded, and when he got to Matisse’s _Woman With a Hat_ there was a cluster of people surrounding it, staring, taking notes, pointing details out to their companions. All of them appeared to be what he’d come to think of as “real people,” not agents who worked for Them.

“Excuse me,” a security guard said, approaching the group. “Don’t stand so close to the art, please.” The man who’d been inches away backed up with a sheepish expression.

“And you,” the guard said to Chilton. “Can you come with me?”

Oh, so that was the agent. He had to hand it to Them; they were good with surprises. He followed her through the gallery to a back room, where they sat on swivel chairs as she told him about his next assignment. At least this was a creature he’d actually heard of: the banshee. It haunted a single father and his two children, but only the children had heard it. Chilton was to pose as their babysitter while the man, Victor Keane, went on a last-minute business trip.

“Maybe your banshees are different, but I thought they haunted the homes of people who were going to die soon,” Chilton said when the security guard – her nametag said Betty – had finished. “Should we really be interfering with that?”

“Banshees are dark creatures,” Betty said, sipping her coffee. “We must work to eradicate as many of them as possible. If someone’s going to die, they’re going to die. I don’t see why removing the harbinger will improve the situation for them.”

Chilton nodded. “I guess I have no say,” he said.

“That’s right,” Betty said with a grin he didn’t like. “Now, your interview with the dad is tomorrow at five. We’ve provided some excellent references for you so there’s no reason you shouldn’t be hired. If you’re not, this is going to be much harder for you, so be sure to make a good impression.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he said.

“Good,” Betty said, pushing her chair back to get up.

“Wait,” Chilton said. “How old are these children?”

“Seven and ten,” she said. “You can handle that, right?”

“Yes, of course,” he said, but he wasn’t sure. He never knew how to act around children. At least they weren’t _too_ young.

“Good luck,” she said. He thanked her and left.

***

The house where the Keane family lived was beautiful. A Victorian painted a pale, dusty lavender, it sat wedged between two similarly lovely homes on a steep hill. As well-kept as it was, there was something about it that gave it a stereotypically “haunted” look. Maybe it was just the growing gloom of the evening and the light mist that had begun to fall from the sky. Chilton climbed the stairs to the door and rang the doorbell.

A tall man in his forties with an almost shocking contrast of pale skin and black hair answered. He looked at Chilton and a warm smile spread across his face. “You must be Mr. Fenster?” He extended a hand, and Chilton noticed that the arm exposed by his rolled-up sleeve was heavily scarred. Scars were always the first things he noticed about other people.

“Yes,” Chilton said, “but call me Fred, please.”

He nodded. “You can call me Vic. Please come in.” He held the door open.

The inside of the house was as beautiful as the outside had been, but had a similarly gloomy feel. Chilton couldn’t help but think of Hannibal Lecter’s home and had to suppress a shudder as he followed Vic.

“My office is just over here,” Vic said, leading the way. Looking around, Chilton decided that he’d been wrong; this was much more tasteful than Hannibal’s home. He sank into one of the leather-cushioned chairs and folded his hands in his lap. He could not afford to mess this up.

“I see you have a lot of experience with kids,” Vic said, looking up from the faux resume to peer at Chilton over his reading glasses.

“Oh, yes,” Chilton said. “I’ve taken care of many children.” He hoped he was a good liar.

“It’s just for two nights,” Vic said. “My usual babysitter is visiting family in San Diego, and the kids love her, but I’m sure they’d warm up to you pretty fast.” He gave Chilton a smile that melted away some of his nervousness.

“I will take excellent care of them,” Chilton said, trying to exude confidence.

Vic nodded slowly. “Well, I say you’re hired,” he said. “But I do need someone else’s approval. Come with me.” He led Chilton back to the living room and walked to the foot of the stairs. “Eleanor! Owen!” he called.

A pair of children appeared a few seconds later, hesitating at first before descending the staircase. They had their father’s silky black hair, but both had bright blue eyes instead of his brown ones.

“This is Mr. Fenster,” he said when they reached the bottom.

“You can call me Fred,” Chilton said. Eleanor, the younger of the two, curtsied, which he had to admit was very cute.

“Nice to meet you,” Owen said. “Are you the new babysitter?”

“Only if you guys want him to be,” Vic said. “I vote yes, but I’ll let you ask your own questions.”

After a brief interview with the children – questions consisted of things like “What’s your favorite soda?” and “Will you play Clue with us?” – they made their decision.

“Sure, why not?” Owen said, and Eleanor nodded vigorously.

“Looks like it’s a deal, then,” Vic said, turning to Chilton with a smile. “Let me show you around. You’ll be sleeping in the first floor guest room.”

After the tour and the instructions, Vic handed Chilton a set of spare keys. He’d be starting the day after tomorrow. He hoped two days and nights was enough time to get rid of the banshee, because otherwise he didn’t know how he’d get back into the house. He didn’t like the idea of breaking in – they seemed like a nice family and had enough to worry about without thinking they were being burglarized.

His own apartment felt smaller and lonelier than usual when he got home that night. He made a quick meal, turned on the TV to help with the silence, and picked up his laptop. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he debated yet again if he was ready to look for information on Hannibal and Will yet. He always did this when he was feeling vulnerable or lonely, and knew it would only make him feel worse, but the temptation was strong. He hadn’t given in so far.

Sighing, he closed the browser and opened a game of solitaire.

***

The day before the babysitting job was to start passed slowly, despite the fact that he was out of the apartment for most of it. The worst part was having to let Crina down when he saw her. Absolutely no leads about the whereabouts of her son.

“You’re doing your best,” she said, laying a motherly hand on his arm.

“I should have found him by now,” Chilton said. “I’ve tried everything I can think of.” It was frustrating that he could destroy supernatural creatures but not find a missing person, but he kept that thought to himself.

“I don’t even know if he’s still alive,” she said with a sad smile, and for the first time he felt the desperate need to get out of the diner.

“I’ll let you know if I have any news,” he said, leaving his half-eaten sandwich on the table as he stood up. “But there’s somewhere else I have to be right now. How easy it is to forget the time.” He gave her a smile he hoped didn’t look too forced.

“Thank you for everything,” Crina said, and he felt a stab of guilt as he walked out into the drizzly day.

He stopped by his favorite convenience store after that, and was greeted in the usual fashion, Felix the cat rubbing against his leg and Julie admonishing him. _May as well ask her too_ , he thought as he brought his purchases up to the register.

“Have you seen this man?” he asked, showing her the picture of Andrei Crina had given him.

  
“No, I don’t think so, sorry,” she said. “Is he missing?”

“Yes,” Chilton said. “He doesn’t live around here but I thought I’d ask anyway.”

“Oh, it’s just that there’s a few kids missing from my school too,” she said.

“Is that so?” Chilton asked, excited at the prospect of any kind of clue.

“Yeah,” she said. “Some people think it’s senioritis, but they haven’t been seen _anywhere_. It’s really weird.”

“Do you know if these kids were involved in drugs or anything?”

“No, as far as I know they were just average kids. I didn’t know any of them, so I can’t say, but…” she shrugged.

Interesting. He’d have to look into this when the banshee business was over.

He spent the rest of the day running errands, and that night he found that he was actually sleepy at his bedtime. Good; he’d need all the rest he could get for the coming days.

His subconscious had other plans, however. He was lost in a labyrinthine version of the Keanes’ house, even gloomier than the real thing, with dead ends and fake walls at every turn. One of the rooms was Hannibal’s dining room, and that filled him with so much panic that he woke up panting with fear.

It was 6:17 AM, less than an hour before he was supposed to get up, so he turned on the TV and made himself some coffee. He wasn’t due at the Keanes’ until ten, but he always liked to have time to relax and gather his thoughts before leaving the house. And with the dream he’d just had, he’d need more time than usual.

A fine mist was falling from the iron-colored sky when he arrived the Keanes’ house, which didn’t help his feelings of dread. He raised his hand to knock on the door when it swung inward, followed by a giggle.

“I saw you coming,” Owen said. “Daddy’s almost ready to go.”

“Owen, who are you… oh, hi,” Vic said, coming into view, flashing a smile at Chilton. “Come in! Owen, why didn’t you invite him in?” He shook his head at his son, an expression of mock disappointment on his face.

“Excuse the mess,” he said as Chilton walked in. Vic’s suitcase lay open in the hall, and several shirts and ties hung on the couch. “The kids were just helping me decide what to wear.”

“I told you the purple one,” Eleanor said. She smiled up at Chilton. “Let me show you my new backpack. I’m going to be in second grade!”

Vic finished packing twenty minutes later. “Remember, the emergency numbers are all on the fridge,” he said. “And there’s a pizza in the freezer and the money for whatever takeout you want is on the counter-“

“He gets it, dad,” Owen said with a  playful roll of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Vic said to Chilton, his forehead creased with genuine concern. “I always get a little nervous when I have to leave them.” He lowered his voice. “Especially now that there’s only me, you know?”

“I understand completely,” Chilton said. “You don’t have to worry about anything as long as I’m here.” He knew he was helping the Keanes, but the guilt was still strong. He wasn’t an excellent babysitter with loads of good references like Vic thought; he wasn’t a babysitter at all. He was basically a fraud.

“Well, I guess I’m off then,” Vic said, and the kids lined up for one last hug. “Be good to Fred. I’ll hear about it if you’re not.” The way he tried to be stern but failed miserably was so endearing that Chilton had to bite back a smile. With a final goodbye wave, he shut the door.

Chilton turned to see Eleanor and Owen staring up at him and felt his heart start to race all over again. They weren’t _that_ young. How hard could it be?

“Can we go play video games?” Owen asked, and Chilton felt relief flood him.

“Yes, of course,” he said. “But be ready to have lunch in an hour.” The kids ran upstairs, and he felt his shoulders relax.  They didn’t seem like they were going to cause any trouble. He just had to keep them fed and happy for two days… and get rid of the banshee haunting their home.

The day went by without incident and Chilton felt much more confident as he closed the doors to their bedrooms. They hadn’t mentioned anything about the banshee or any other type of monster, and he didn’t want to ask them about it on the first day. In fact, he was reluctant to mention it at _all_ – why ruin their good moods?

At least they had an early bedtime; he could get a few hours of sleep. He had to get _some_ sleep, and he couldn’t nap during the day, so he figured it would be okay to start his watch at midnight. According to his research, the banshee, being a type of spirit, would be more likely to appear during the witching hour – but sources differed on when exactly that was. Some said midnight, some said three AM. He was sure that its cries would wake him up if it decided to visit earlier than that, though. It was going to be rough no matter what, but it wasn’t as if he’d never had trouble sleeping.

He was in a deep, dreamless sleep when his phone’s alarm went off, and he almost considered going back to sleep before the rational part of his brain reminded him that that was not an option. He sat up, rubbing at his face for a few seconds before hauling himself out of the bed.

He walked to the kitchen after doing a quick check of the house – no banshee in sight and no noise from the children’s rooms – and started the coffee machine. It was going to be a long night. He’d been having a lot of those lately.

It was near four when a strong feeling of dread hit him, making him pause his solitaire game. _Something_ was here, he was sure of it. He closed the laptop gently and stood up, gun drawn. He regretted not turning on all the lights in the house.

A few agonizing minutes went by, the tension building until Chilton thought _he_ was the one who was going to scream. Then he heard it: faint at first, then louder and more unearthly. It sounded like it was getting closer, and as much as he didn’t want to, he moved toward the sound, his heart pounding. An icy wind blew through the hallway, ruffling his hair, and he shivered uncontrollably.

The scream rose in pitch and intensity, mingling with the howling wind, and Chilton held his gun steady, bracing himself. His hand started to shake from either the cold or his fear, he wasn’t sure which, until he had to use both hands to steady it.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, the wind and the shrieking stopped. The temperature rose so abruptly that it felt like someone had just switched off the air conditioner. He looked around cautiously before running to the light switch. He turned on all the lights, inspecting each room carefully, but he knew the banshee was gone. He could feel it.

Just then the door to Owen’s bedroom creaked open. “Fred?” he called from his room, and Chilton raced up the stairs, almost tripping twice.

“Owen, are you alright?” he asked, panting, when he reached his bedroom.

“Yeah, I just heard something really weird,” Owen said. He’d turned on his bedside lamp and was sitting up in his bed with his blankets drawn up to his chin. His face was pale and his lower lip was trembling. “I don’t think it was a dream.”

Chilton’s mind raced. Of course he shouldn’t tell the kids what was really in their house, but what lie could he come up with?

“Sometimes dreams can be very realistic,” he said, and that sounded like a lie even to him.

“So you didn’t hear it?” Owen asked, his eyes big.

“No,” Chilton said. He never imagined lying to a child would feel this bad. But this was a frightened, vulnerable child with an actual ghost in his house, so what else could he do?

“I’m scared,” a quiet voice said from behind Chilton, and he almost jumped. It was Eleanor, holding a stuffed polar bear.

“She heard it too!” Owen said, his voice a mix of triumph and panic. “I knew it wasn’t just a dream!”

“Maybe it was the wind,” Chilton said. “There’s supposed to be a storm coming. It’s been drizzling all day.”

“It was a ghost,” Owen said. Chilton felt his heart sink.

“Owen, I’m sure it was the storm,” he said, trying to make his voice stern. “Now please go back to sleep or else I’m afraid I’ll have to let your father know about this.”

“He’d believe us,” Eleanor said, but she turned to walk back to her room.

“Thank you,” Chilton said. “Everything will feel less scary in the morning. You’ll see.”

But the next morning was even gloomier, with sheets of rain falling from the sky and splattering against the windows. It was so dark that Chilton kept the lights on. The children, whose tired faces caused a pang of guilt, played quietly by themselves all morning. He felt as if he’d betrayed them, but what else could he do? Telling them there was a banshee in their house would only frighten them more. Hopefully it would actually show itself tonight so he could get rid of it, and then the children wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore.

“I think you know about the ghost,” Owen said after lunch. Chilton looked at him, startled.

“I told you it was just the wind,” he said.

“I always know when adults are lying,” Owen said, and his eyes were so serious that Chilton almost couldn’t stand to look at him.

“Owen, I honestly don’t know,” he said. Maybe something in the middle was best. “Maybe it was a ghost; maybe it was the wind. I was asleep and I did hear something, so I turned on the lights. But I didn’t see anything.”

Owen nodded, considering this. “Well, I think it was a ghost,” he said. “I think we should do something about it.”

“Owen, there’s nothing we can do. The Ghostbusters aren’t exactly real.”

“I know,” he said. “But maybe if it comes again we can tell it to go away.”

_If only it were that easy_ , Chilton thought, smiling at the child’s naiveté.

“I think it would work,” Eleanor said. “It works on TV.”

Chilton opened his mouth to tell her that he wasn’t a Catholic priest, but realized that they’d just given him the perfect way out. “That is an excellent idea,” he said.

Owen looked surprised. “Really? You think so?”

“I do,” Chilton said. “In fact, let’s do it now. Come with me.” They walked to the living room, the children looking up at him expectantly.

“If there are any ghosts here,” Chilton said, raising his hand to make the “stop” gesture with his palm out, “you must leave. You are not welcome here. Go on to the other side.” He looked at the kids, silently willing them to accept this.

Owen nodded slowly, and Eleanor clapped her hands. “I think it’s gone,” she said.

“That should be good, unless it’s a stubborn one,” Owen said. “Then we’ll have to figure out something else.”

“Yes, I suppose we will,” Chilton said.

The rest of the day passed too quickly for Chilton’s liking, and the kids were clearly anxious by the time bedtime arrived. The rain hadn’t let up and now there really was howling wind outside, which didn’t help.

“I wish Dad was here,” Owen said. “I’m really scared.”

“He’ll be back tomorrow morning,” Chilton said. “Do you want to be tired when he gets back?”

“No,” Owen said with a strangely adult sigh. He hesitated before slowly closing his bedroom door. “Goodnight, Fred,” he said.

Chilton felt a tug of some unfamiliar emotion. He forced himself to push it back down, because earlier in the day he’d let a terrible thought finally come to the surface: who was going to die? The presence of a banshee meant that someone who lived in the house was close to death. Every source he’d looked at had said the exact same thing. He’d been trying not to think about it, but either one of these children or their father was going to die soon. It was obvious that the man’s wife had died, probably recently. And now it would be reduced to two? Or, god forbid, even less than that?

He went to the kitchen to make some coffee. There was no way he’d be able to sleep tonight, so there was no point in trying. He was going to get that banshee. If this family was going to face tragedy soon, at least they wouldn’t have to be traumatized before it happened.

The lights began to flicker shortly after 3 AM and Chilton felt the temperature drop dramatically in the span of a few seconds. He braced himself and tightened his grip on the gun he’d had out since midnight. Last night it seemed to be in the downstairs hallway, so he headed in that direction, trying to keep his breathing even.

The lights went off completely when he reached the hallway, and he felt the wind start to blow. A shriek followed, rising in volume like it had the previous night.

“Show yourself,” Chilton yelled as loudly as he could. He’d forgotten about waking the children; he just wanted this taken care of.

To his surprise a misty glow started to form a few feet away from him. He could make out hair now, long and stringy, and a face with sunken eyes and a gaping mouth. The hands were gnarled claws that seemed to reach for him. The screaming doubled in volume as the banshee solidified, and Chilton had to fight to keep both hands on his gun and not on his ears. It wasn’t trying to come for him; it just screamed and screamed as it hovered. He fired the gun several times as the screams grew even louder. The sound was too much for him to concentrate on aiming, but hopefully one of the shots would hit its target. He continued to pull the trigger.

The screaming stopped abruptly, leaving a loud ringing in his ears, and the lights went back on. He saw the misty figure fade away, shuddering at its hideous face, which was the last thing to disappear. A gem fell to the ground with a clink.

He rushed over to it and pocketed it, then ran to the kitchen to put his gun back in his bag before the kids could come downstairs and see it. He could hear both of their doors opening already.

Owen and Eleanor were slowly walking down the stairs together, holding each other as if they were afraid they’d drown.

“The ghost was back!” Eleanor said through her blubbery tears. “You must have heard it this time, it was so loud!”

“I did,” Chilton said. He made the kids sit on the couch and wrapped the blanket she’d been holding around both of them. “But I took care of it. For real this time.”

“But how can you be _sure_?” Owen asked. “It wasn’t supposed to come back.”

“I saw it this time,” Chilton said. “I looked right at it and told it to go away, and it did. It won’t be back. I can guarantee that. If it comes back, you can call me.”

“I’m still scared,” Eleanor whispered.

“I think we should call Dad,” Owen said.

“It’s almost four in the morning,” Chilton said. “Seven where he is. He’s probably already at the airport. Can you make it till he comes back? It’ll only be a few hours.”

“I’ll try,” Eleanor said, her tears slowing to a sniffle.

“Good,” Chilton said, sitting on the couch next to her. He almost wanted to put his arm around them, but stopped himself before he could.

They spent the next few hours dozing in front of the TV. The kids seemed less anxious when the sun rose – and there _was_ sun this morning, no more grey drizzle – and by the time Chilton had breakfast ready they’d cheered up considerably.

“I think it would be best if we did not mention the ghost to your father,” Chilton said, setting the breakfast plates on the table. “Unless it shows up again, of course.”

They agreed, and Chilton allowed himself to feel cautiously relieved.

Vic came home an hour later, and the children threw themselves at him,  demanding affection. “Let me put my bags down first!” he said, laughing, and Chilton felt a twinge of something bittersweet as he watched.

“Why don’t you go get dressed and we’ll go get ice cream?” he said, and they raced up to their rooms. He turned to Chilton.

“Thank you so much,” he said, reaching for his wallet. He handed him the bills, which Chilton stuffed into his pocket as quickly as possible. He felt guilty for taking his money – this whole thing was just a front so he could do his _real_ job, after all.

“It was no problem. They were very well-behaved,” he said.

Vic nodded, then hesitated before speaking again. “Did anything… unusual happen?”

Chilton felt something squeeze his heart. “What do you mean?” he asked, trying to sound as oblivious as possible.

“Any weird noises during the night?” Vic looked as if he regretted saying anything, and Chilton couldn’t stand to see him suffer through this awkward conversation.

“Yes, actually,” he said. “Why, have _you_ heard anything?”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t say anything sooner,” Vic said. “It was very unfair to do this to you.” He glanced up the stairs. No sign of the kids yet.

“Not telling me you had a ghost in your house, you mean?” Chilton said. He had to act at least a little angry. Telling Vic that he’d known about the banshee beforehand would make things too complicated.

“Yes,” Vic said, avoiding eye contact. “I really should pay you more, actually. How’s an extra hundred?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Chilton said. “But what do you know about this ghost? It scared the children badly.”

“I’ve been hearing it for a week now, and right before I left, I saw it.” His already pale skin had gone white as snow. “It was like this horrible old woman, with long, stringy hair…” He wrapped his arms around himself.

“That’s exactly what I saw,” Chilton said.

“Good to know I’m not crazy, at least.” His eyes briefly met Chilton’s and there was a small smile on his face.

“If you are than so am I,” Chilton said, returning the smile.

“I’m this close to calling an exorcist,” Vic said, shaking his head. “I’m not even Catholic. But there has to be some way to take care of this.”

“When I saw it, I told it to get out,” Chilton said, watching Vic’s face carefully. “And it did. It disappeared, and the noise stopped, and the lights went back on. Maybe that did the trick.”

“Really?” Vic looked hopeful. “Well, I’m still going to look into getting some help if this happens again.”

“Good idea,” Chilton said.

“I really can’t thank you enough,” Vic said. “I have your number so if I ever need you again, I’ll give you a call.”

“I would appreciate that,” Chilton said. They exchanged goodbyes and then he was free, away from that gloomy house. Away from that charming single father and his not-too-annoying children, the family that would soon be losing one of its members.

_Stop it_ , he told himself when the house was no longer in view. _It’s no use thinking about this_. They’d never actually told him not to get involved with people he encountered on the job, but he could see so many reasons why it would be a terrible idea. And if one of them was going to die soon… He sighed. Always the wrong place at the wrong time.

He wandered a bit before calling a cab, enjoying the bright sunshine. On a day like this it was hard even for him to imagine that anything sinister could be lurking in the shadows.


	4. Chapter 4

He spent the next few days looking for clues about Andrei’s whereabouts. He knew Crina didn’t have high hopes – and he’d begun to realize she saw him as a sort of last resort – but he desperately wanted to help her. The thought of seeing her disappointed hurt him more than he’d like to admit.

He stopped by the convenience store when he knew Julie would be working alone and waited for the other customers to leave, pretending to compare nutrition information on different bags of chips. He put them down and when the last customer left and glanced out the door. No one else was coming.

“So, have you heard anything else about those missing students?” he asked.

Her eyes lit up. “Oh yeah, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you about this! I felt so bad and I’ve been hoping you’d come back soon. Okay, so you know how I said there was nothing that weird about them? Well, at least two of them got these weird tattoos. Or maybe they were just drawn on, I guess, but anyway – I don’t think they even knew each other. But the tattoos were like, a sword with a diamond behind it? I’ve never seen that before.”

“Do you think you could draw it?” he asked. Finally, something he could work with – maybe. Hopefully.

“Um, let me see,” she said, opening a drawer under the counter to get a pen and paper. “I don’t remember exactly, but it’s something like this.”

She drew a sword, facing down, superimposed on a diamond shape. It didn’t look familiar to Chilton, but he was going to do as much research as possible. All those years of post-secondary education and psychiatry practice had paid off.

“Thank you, Julie,” he said, taking the paper. “And you say some of the students had this symbol on their bodies? Where?”

“On the back of their hands,” she said. “Right hands, I think. I only saw two myself, but I heard some other people talking about more kids who had them. They didn’t say where theirs were.”

He nodded. This was certainly intriguing, even if it had nothing to do with Andrei’s disappearance. Maybe he’d even be contacted about this soon – if it had to do with the supernatural, anyway. It could just be some weird hipster thing that the kids were into.

“That’s all I got,” she said, and Chilton snapped back to the present.

“That’s very helpful, thank you,” he said. Realizing he’d forgotten to do any actual shopping, he headed to the back of the store to get what he needed. He couldn’t wait to get back home and try to find the origins of the symbol.

***

He quickly realized that this was going to be much harder than he’d thought. None of his searches for “sword diamond symbol” were successful at all, no matter how many synonyms he tried. He’d tried every search engine he could think of, even lowering himself to use Dogpile – _there_ was a throwback – but none yielded any results he could work with.

He picked at his cooling takeout, hating the feeling of being stumped. He was always so good at getting himself out of tricky situations – ones that didn’t involve murderers, anyway – and surely he’d come up with something sooner or later.

He went to Google again, and an idea so obvious he wanted to slap himself came to him – reverse image search! He’d seen this done on TV, usually when someone wanted to find out if their online lover was really who they said they were. He cleared a space on his table, took out his phone, and took a picture of Julie’s drawing.

Disappointingly, there was only one result, but one was better than none. He clicked on the page and was led to a message board about video games. The sword-and-diamond symbol was one of the users’ avatars. Mike57 – creative – had hijacked a popular thread about a new game preview. His single post made very little sense, and Chilton wondered if maybe he was on drugs. That or mentally disturbed. The strangely-punctuated, paragraph-long post talked about how Mike57 was going to enslave the world as a part of an underground army or cult (literally – “hordes of us! Below the City. Of San Francisco”). How he was one of the select few who had been “changed.” Obvious delusions of grandeur, this one. The posts other uses had made in reply were mocking and dismissive, with one user claiming he was “too funny to ban.”

Whatever this was, it did sound intriguing. _If_ there was any truth to it. It could just be a group of weirdoes trying to scare people, or some sort of mass hallucination. Even so, it could be a clue to the missing people’s whereabouts. He bookmarked and printed the page.

He got another appointment to see one of Their agents the next day. This time it came from an over-the-top “lost tourist” holding a huge map of the city. Even he could tell that one was fake – were They losing Their touch?

He spent the rest of the day asking people around Andrei’s neighborhood if they recognized the symbol.  No one admitted they did, but one man, a sweaty, nervous-looking guy who bore an uncomfortable resemblance to Abel Gideon, seemed like he did but wouldn’t tell Chilton. If only he could use his old methods to get the information out of him. What he wouldn’t give for some sodium amytal. He watched the man, who’d been walking his dog, go back into his house and close the blinds. Interesting. He’d have to come back whenever he finished Their latest job.

Their latest job, he discovered the next day, centered around something called “black-eyed children.” He’d never heard of them, but an internet search informed him that they were considered a sort of urban legend. Some people truly believed in them, but they all seemed like the type who also believed in Bigfoot, Chupacabras, Men in Black, and the like. He wasn’t looking forward to meeting them: they were eerie, pale children with pure black eyes where the whites and irises should be. Their actual purpose was vague, but the general consensus was that they were up to no good.

They’d been seen hanging around Union Square, an upscale shopping area that was usually full of tourists. It wasn’t exactly shadowy and run-down, but Chilton knew by now that dark things could be lurking anywhere. At least he didn’t have to be in the same house as some terrifying thing this time.

He headed straight to Union Square from the meeting – why waste any time? It was only three o’clock in the afternoon. Plenty of time for these creepy children to do whatever it is they did.

He walked around slowly, enjoying the atmosphere. Though he lived much more modestly than before, he still had expensive taste and knew he would never lose it. Suits in loud plaid that cost more than his monthly rent just didn’t fit his lifestyle anymore, but that didn’t mean he no longer liked them. Maybe he could buy some plain-looking shirts made from high-quality materials. The average person wouldn’t be able to tell they were so expensive, right? Maybe-

Just then he noticed a woman in a skirt suit and heels crouch down to talk to a child on the sidewalk. He made his way over to them as quickly and discreetly as he could, his heart starting to pound. This was going to be the fastest he’d ever caught something – it wasn’t even dark yet!

The woman straightened up as he approached and he realized that the child’s eyes were perfectly normal. She finished wiping the chocolate ice cream off his face and gave Chilton a suspicious look as she put the wipe back into her purse. “Let’s go, Brian,” she said, taking his hand and leading him away.

He should have known it wouldn’t be this easy. He was just distracted by his search for Andrei and that weird symbol, that was all. He had to force himself to focus on finding these children first, though, and then he could get back to that.

He strolled though the square, wondering if he should try to go inside any of the stores. Maybe something child-oriented, like a toy store? He was on his way to the Disney store when he saw a small child, seven or eight by the looks of him, walk into a department store by himself. He almost looked like Owen from behind, and why was he alone? Where were his parents? He waited to cross the street, tapping his foot impatiently. The boy had to be one of them. He had _that feeling_ again, which he now realized he hadn’t had when he saw the boy with the ice cream on his face. Why had he still not learned to trust his instincts? He had to get to him before he got away, or worse, harmed someone.

The light finally changed and he raced across the street, ignoring the annoyed looks from the people in his way. He yanked open one of the store’s heavy doors, panting, and realized he had no idea where to go next. It would probably be best to take it one level at a time and search every possible corner. According to the directory the first floor contained men’s clothing and housewares. He went left first, immersing himself in cashmere sweaters. Fall was almost here, and surely no one would think too much of it if… no, he had to stay focused. He could shop later.

After a thorough search of the first floor, he headed toward the escalators. This store had six floors, and knowing his luck the creepy child would be on the sixth. He knew he needed to find him before someone else did, but at the same time he wanted to put it off for as long as possible. He sighed. That was the old cowardly Chilton talking. He’d done his best to get rid of him, or at least shove him as far down as possible, but he always managed to come back.

He gripped the escalator railings. No, he was going to do this. It was terrifying but he was going to rid the world of one more terrible thing. It was better to think of it this way instead of the actual reality of the situation: that he had to do it or else they’d take his life away. He’d rather be a hero than an unwilling pawn.

The second floor housed women’s shoes and cosmetics, and after a quick, nervous check, he moved on.

The third floor had children’s and juniors’ clothing, and if there was a logical place for a child to be, he supposed it would be here. The children’s area was almost empty, save for a few tired-looking women sifting through the clearance rack. That made things easier. If only he could search the fitting rooms without looking like a creep. He peeked his head into one and called out, “Joey? Are you there?” No answer, and no strange stares. No sound at all.

He walked over to juniors’ and his heart leaped into his throat when he saw the little boy standing by himself. This was the same boy he’d seen from across the street. He noticed his eyes as he got closer, a pure, liquid black. He was staring at him, completely unmoving like a mannequin.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“My name is Will,” he said. “I’m lost. Do you think you could help me find my mommy?”

“What does she look like?” Chilton asked, heart thumping. He was obviously trying to lure him into some sort of trap, and why did his name have to be _Will_?

“She has black hair and she’s tall,” the boy said. “Please help me find her. I’m scared.” His voice was completely devoid of emotion and it chilled Chilton to the core.

“You know, I think I saw her over here,” he said. He was hesitant to get too close to the child. “Back in the children’s section. She’s probably worried about you. Why don’t you follow me?”

He started to walk and turned to make sure he was following. He wasn’t. He just continued to stare.

“Look, Will, I think she’s over here,” he said, approaching him carefully. “Why don’t you-“ he broke off when he saw his hand. There, faint on his eerily pale skin, was the sword-and-diamond symbol. What _was_ this?

Will continued to stare, unblinking. Those black eyes really were unnerving. Chilton looked around. No one else was in this department, not even an employee. He could take care of him right here, but obviously his shooting a child would raise some alarms back in the security camera room. Why hadn’t he thought to wear some sort of disguise? Too late now.

“What does that mean?” he asked, pointing at his hand. “That symbol?” He knew it was dangerous to be talking to him like this instead of finding a way to get rid of him, but this could be important. He had a feeling it was all connected to something much bigger, and he had to find out what it was.

The child smiled, which made him look even more unnerving. “Someone like you will never know,” he said. “Only the chosen can be a part of the great plan.”

He felt the temperature drop, which he knew from experience was never a good sign. If he had to shoot him here, he would. What choice did he have? It wasn’t like the store’s security or the police would find a body. He took out his gun and pointed it at the boy, but he didn’t move. He still had that disturbing smile on his face.

“You can get rid of me, but I am only one in thousands,” he said. He wasn’t coming at Chilton, but he felt a rising panic. He swallowed and pulled the trigger. The creature calling itself Will evaporated and the jewel fell to the ground with a soft thump on the carpet. He picked it up and shoved it into his pocket. He walked to the escalator as quickly as he could, trying not to draw attention to himself. He hoped there were no witnesses.


	5. Chapter 5

He started planning the minute he got home. He was going to find Andrei and get to the bottom of whatever this symbol thing was, this mysterious cult or army. This thing that was so powerful that its members didn’t care if they died.

He dropped the jewel off and called a taxi. It took him to the library – the place he always went when he couldn’t figure something out. The internet was good for research, and he preferred to stay in his own home when looking up things like banshees and sirens, but sometimes the library was a necessity. He guessed half of it was atmosphere, but whatever it was, it usually worked.

He entered the large, stone building and sat down at one of the desks in the corner. He’d come to think of that as his special place, and he knew it was weird and superstitious, but he didn’t care. He took out his laptop and went to the library’s website. It was much more private to check the catalogue this way, less chance of people seeing what he was up to. Sometimes he missed his old office at the BSHCI, where he could lock himself away and not have to worry about interruptions, but this was a decent substitute. He searched for cults, for “underground” San Francisco, for symbols. He scribbled down several call numbers. It took him three trips to carry all the books to his desk, and he arranged them by subject. This was going to be a long evening.

***

He didn’t find anything about the symbols, and none of the cults he read about sounded at all like the one Will and “Mike57” were apparently a part of. Nothing about anything interesting under the city, either. He felt exhausted, hungry, but mostly disappointed. Maybe this corner desk wasn’t lucky, after all. He could still search the internet, but that could wait until he got home. The library was closing in an hour and he desperately needed food.

That night he learned that there _were_ underground tunnels in the city. Some were under Chinatown – he may have found that information in the library books if he’d thought to look - and some were in vague places like “somewhere north of Civic Center.” He’d try the Chinatown ones first since they were easier to find, though from what he’d read they’d been turned into underground offices and shopping centers. Pretty difficult for a secret cult to do its evil deeds there. Still, he had to check. If he couldn’t find anything he’d have a lot more work to do to find the others. None of the websites gave actual locations, probably for fear of the tunnels being closed or more carefully monitored. These “urban explorers” took their hobby very seriously.

It would have to wait until tomorrow, though, as it was already too late for the tunnel to be open. He was grateful for that. This day had been long enough already.

***

He headed to Chinatown the next day and found the tunnel easily. He found himself disappointed at the blandness of the place, despite knowing what was in store. It was all white tile floors and glass-doored offices and shops. There was no access to anything that went down deeper, and nothing indicating any hidden passageways. It wasn’t a logical place for a secret cult to do its work, anyway; the people who worked here would surely notice something like that.

He emerged into the bright sunlight, trying not to feel too disappointed. He knew it was naïve to hope that the tunnel would lead to the cult’s lair, but he’d really wanted it to. It was the easiest, and in fact, the _only_ tunnel he could find that had an actual address. He’d have to go searching for the others, and who knew how long _that_ was going to take?

Maybe Julie knew, or knew someone who knew. That girl seemed to know a lot, and she met a variety of people every day in the convenience store. Finding secret tunnels was something that would appeal to high schoolers, right?

It was too early for her to be working yet, so he explored Chinatown while he waited. It was the epitome of touristy, of course, but it had real history. He was surprised he hadn’t had to come here to take care of anything for Them yet. He knew it was haunted, and not just by ghosts. There were probably all sorts of creatures here he’d never even heard of.

He wandered through the shops filled with bamboo plants and lucky cat figurines, occasionally asking a shopkeeper as casually as he could if they knew about any other tunnels. They all either didn’t know or told him they’d been closed off years ago.

Filing that knowledge away for later, he headed to the convenience store. Julie was there – alone, fortunately – and looked bored. Felix meowed a greeting when Chilton walked in and Julie looked up, smiling.

“I always know it’s you when I hear Felix,” she said. “He likes you so much.”

A faint, crooked smile appeared on Chilton’s face. He had to admit he did have a fondness for the cat. Maybe he’d finally see about getting one of his own when this whole cult thing was over.

“I have some more questions for you,” Chilton said.

“Oh, did you find out about that symbol?” Julie asked. Her eyes said _Please, I’m so bored._

“Sort of,” Chilton said, unsure of how much to tell her. “It may be connected to something underneath the city. Do you know of anything like that? Underground tunnels, anything like that?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “But I’m sure they exist. I was watching this show on the History Channel about tunnels under Alcatraz, and- oh! And there’s some under Chinatown!” She looked pleased with herself.

“Yes, I’ve looked there already,” Chilton said. “My search was not what I’d consider successful. I was wondering if you or any of your friends know of any _other_ tunnels. Ones that may not be… known to the public.”

“What, like places we’re not supposed to be? I’m not into trespassing, Fred. I’m a good kid, remember? Bright future and all that. I’m going to Stanford.” She grinned.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to insinuate that _you_ would do such a thing. I merely wondered if you _knew_ of something like that. If you’d heard about it at school, perhaps.”

“Nope,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t hang out with a bad crowd or anything, though.”

Why couldn’t she have been less of a goody two-shoes? “Well, thanks anyway,” he said. Maybe this was for the best. The last thing he wanted was to get her involved in any way, or draw any attention to her.

The perfect solution came to him as he was scrolling through cat websites later that night. The list of cat breeds that would be kindest to his allergies ranged from the very hairy Siberian to the hairless Sphynx. There was something kind of appealing about the hideous, wrinkled things…

He leaned back from his laptop, his eyes wide. Ideas rarely came to him so suddenly like this, so he appreciated them when they did. He could try to _infiltrate_ the cult! He’d draw the symbol on his hand and go to places where other people who had the symbol had been seen. He could try Andrei’s neighborhood, Julie’s school, and maybe some seedier places as well. He didn’t relish that thought. There were places in this city that were terrifying enough without the addition of the supernatural.

***

He struggled for over an hour to get the symbol right. Why did they all have to have it on their _right_ hands? He’d ask Julie for help, but that could be potentially dangerous. He didn’t want her to know what he was up to. She was a smart kid; she’d figure it out, and he couldn’t risk her telling her friends or parents. The fewer people who knew about him in general, the better, and he didn’t want _anyone_ to know he was involved with anything weird.

He held his hand in front of his face, examining it. It didn’t look too bad, and besides, were they really going to scrutinize it closely? He hoped not. He pulled on his most comfortable clothes – loose jeans to hide the gun strapped to his leg - and chose shoes he hoped would get him through any rough terrain that may exist underneath the city. He searched through his closet until he found his backpack and filled it with a flashlight, food, and water.

He sat on his couch for several minutes, forcing himself to slow down and think about this. It would be extremely risky, and he’d learned from past experience that getting so close to someone dangerous could have catastrophic results. But he was completely alone, unable to share this secret with anyone else. If he didn’t stop them, who would? Why hadn’t They ever mentioned this? Had They given the assignment to someone “better”? He knew it was absurd, but he was a little insulted by that. There was, of course, the possibility that even They didn’t know about it. That was not a comforting thought.

He stood up and grabbed the backpack. No use wasting time worrying. He had to get out there and find out what was really going on.

***

He started at Julie’s school, but as it was a Saturday, it was empty. He made three slow circles around the school, scanning for any kind of activity, but didn’t see anything. Maybe, if he had to, he could find out where the missing kids lived.

Andrei’s apartment was next. There’d always been plenty of people out in that neighborhood during his previous visits, and he hoped today would be the same. He also hoped no one had noticed that he was always lurking around the apartment complex.

He saw, to his dismay, that no one was outside the apartment today. There weren’t many people in the neighborhood in general, save for a few people washing their cars and working on their gardens. He walked slowly around the block, using his right hand to pretend to fix his hair whenever he walked past someone. No one paid him any attention.

He left the neighborhood and wandered around, still trying to make his hand as visible as possible. Maybe he should go somewhere with more people – maybe Fisherman’s Wharf or Union Square again? After all, that’s where some of these creatures had been in the past. He took out his phone and was about to call a cab when he noticed the young man cut across the sidewalk right in front of him and wrench open the door to a coffee shop. It was Andrei.

Chilton felt his breath stop as he stood there, rooted to the sidewalk. So much searching and now he was right in front of him. It _was_ him, wasn’t it? Now was not the time for hallucinations. He hurried to the door of the coffee shop and pulled it open. It was crowded in there, but he spotted Andrei right away.

And it _was_ Andrei; the light brown hair, stocky build, and broad face matched the photograph Crina had given him perfectly. Apparently even minions of underground cults needed caffeine. Who knew? He was the last person in line, so Chilton walked up to him as casually as he could. His heart sped up when he saw the symbol on his right hand.

“Hey,” he said in a low voice, and Andrei turned. There was a glassy look in his brown eyes that Chilton didn’t like. He held up his right hand, palm facing inward. The glassy look changed to one of surprise and then excitement, but it still seemed vaguely inhuman.

“Why don’t we talk?” Chilton asked. It was Andrei’s turn and the barista was looking at him, opening her mouth to say something. “What do you want? I’m buying,” he said.

“Just a large black coffee,” Andrei said, and when they got their order Chilton led him to a small table. He hoped desperately that Andrei would be the first to say something, because he had no idea how to start without revealing his true intentions.

“I’ve never seen you before, are you a new recruit?” Andrei asked after an uncomfortable silence and then a quick check to see if they were being observed.

“I am,” Chilton said. “I’m still a bit overwhelmed by this whole thing.”

“How long ago was your ceremony?”

“Just a few days ago,” Chilton said. “This past Wednesday.”

Andrei nodded. “Well, I’m always available to help new people,” he said. “No one should ever be left behind. Our goal is to stand together. That’s the only way to fulfill our purpose.”

“Oh yes, I agree completely,” Chilton said, nodding. He tried to emulate Andrei’s blank stare. At least he had an advantage with his left eye. “So are you… heading there? After this? You know, underground?” He looked around at the other customers, hoping that was convincing to Andrei. His face was just so hard to read.

“I was, as a matter of fact,” he said. “It’s kind of early but I’ve just been getting so sick of the upper world lately. Do you want to go with me?”

Chilton’s heart raced. Now that the moment was here, he was terrified. He should have told someone. Who, though? It wasn’t as if he had any real friends or loved ones here. Maybe his last therapist. Maybe the police. Maybe-

“We can drink this coffee on the way,” Andrei said, getting up. Chilton noticed that one of his eyes, though still glassy, was twitching.

“Oh yes, of course,” he said. He could feel the adrenaline surging through his body as he followed Andrei out the door. Why did he only now realize exactly how idiotic this plan was? He wanted to go home, but it was too late.

Andrei led him down the block, walking slightly ahead of him and not looking back to make sure if he was still following. Maybe he could make a break for it. There were plenty of people around and he could always yell and make a scene if Andrei tried to come after him. He was trying to build the courage to do that when Andrei did turn around.

“It’s right in here,” he said, gesturing to an alley they’d come to. It didn’t look particularly creepy but Chilton had a bad feeling about it anyway. They had to be near the tunnel entrance. Andrei’s pace slowed as they reached the middle of the alley until he stopped altogether. He turned to Chilton and stared at him, silent and unblinking.

“Are we close?” Chilton asked after an uncomfortably intense few seconds. He realized that Andrei had him nearly pressed against the wall. He forced himself to take deep breaths and not let the fear take over, but he was sure Andrei could sense that he was terrified.

“You’re not really one of us,” Andrei said, leaning in even closer. His coffee cup dropped to the ground with a splash and his eyes glowed with a dull fury. “How did you find out about us?”

Chilton was sure his heart was going to explode at any second. Oh god, he’d gotten himself into one of these terrible situations again. They hadn’t sent him to do this; he’d done it to himself. “I’m with you,” he said. His voice wouldn’t go above a whisper.

“I’ve known you weren’t since the moment I saw you,” Andrei said. “Your laughable imitation of our sacred mark didn’t fool me for one second. You forgot to include the part of it that’s invisible to upper world scum like yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” Chilton said in the same barely-audible whisper. He felt sweat trickle down the back of his neck despite the cold dampness of the day and realized he’d dropped his cup as well.

“I think there’s only one option,” Andrei said. His eyes bored into Chilton’s, the glassy quality completely gone now. “You’ll make a fine prize for our leader.” He pulled away and reached into the inner pocket of his jacket.

Chilton forced himself to move and used the moment to go for his gun. The last thing he’d ever want to do was kill Crina’s son, but since this wasn’t a _real_ gun, and wasn’t mean to be used on humans, maybe it would only stun him, or at the very least scare him so he could get away. He had no idea what it would do, actually. They had never told him. There was no time to think. He saw Andrei’s eyes go wide and steadied the gun in his hands.

Andrei lunged toward him, but he backed up, almost tripping on his own feet. He forced himself to squeeze the trigger and fought the urge to close his eyes as the blast hit Andrei squarely in the chest.

He didn’t disintegrate, Chilton was relieved to see, but he did fall to his knees. Chilton stood where he was, not wanting to get any closer in case this was another trick.

Andrei fell slowly onto his side, and Chilton allowed himself to get a few inches closer. He was lying on the ground, his chest heaving. He started to cough, which made Chilton jump. He fought the urge to cry out and crouched down, gun held firmly in his hand.

“Andrei?” he asked, and he was relieved to find that his voice could go louder than a whisper again. “Are you alright?”

Andrei grunted and his body began to shake violently. Oh, god, was he having a seizure? Maybe he should call an ambulance and use this as a chance to get away-

Andrei let out an inhuman scream that sliced right through Chilton’s thoughts. Instinctively, he started to run down the alley, but made himself stop and look back. A luminous, greenish mist was slow rising from Andrei’s eyes, nose, and mouth as he writhed on the ground. It hovered above him and Chilton had the wild, desperate idea to raise his gun and shoot at it.

A horrible, low sound filled the alley as the mist shimmered even brighter and then slowly dispersed. To Chilton’s amazement, a jewel fell to the ground. He rushed past Andrei’s still body and picked it up. It looked exactly like all the other ones. Was the mist some sort of supernatural creature itself? Was it Andrei’s soul or something? And what was he going to do with this jewel that They hadn’t sent him to collect?

He shoved it deep into the pocket of his jeans and knelt beside Andrei. He noticed with a strong wave of relief that he was still breathing. His pulse was weak, but it seemed to be getting stronger the longer he held his fingers against it.

“Andrei,” he said loudly, and a soft groan came from his lips. His eyes fluttered open for a second and then slid closed again.

“We need to get away from here,” Chilton said. Another groan. He felt his adrenaline start to rush again as he wondered if they really _were_ close to the tunnel opening or if Andrei had just lured him into this alley to attack him. No use worrying about that now, though. It would be best just to get out of here first and ask questions later.

He shook him, gently at first and then harder until he seemed more alert. His eyes were finally staying open, at least.

“We need to get away from here,” Chilton said. “We’ll be safe at my apartment, I promise. Please, Andrei,” he said, wincing at the way his voice cracked. He was getting desperate. Andrei was a much bigger man than he was and there was no way he could lift him up and drag him to the end of the alley, let alone to his apartment.

“What happened?” Andrei asked, shifting to a sitting position. He blinked several times and Chilton was relieved to see that the glassy look was gone.

“I’ll explain later but it’s very important that you come with me,” Chilton said. He grabbed Andrei’s arm. “I’ll help you up.”

He got to his feet with a groan and swayed a bit. Chilton put an arm around his shoulder. It was a bit of a reach but he thought he could stay like that until they got a taxi, at least.

“Do you think you can walk?” Chilton asked. Andrei nodded, his teeth gritted. “You have to trust me,” he said. “I know your mother. Her name is Crina and she works at Molly’s Diner. She’s a friend of mine and she asked me to find you.”

“My mom?” Andrei squinted at Chilton. “You know her?”

“Yes,” Chilton said. “But I need you to come with me right now so I can tell you everything. Then we can go see her, I promise.”

“I don’t think I want to,” Andrei said. “I’ve done some terrible things.”

Chilton felt his patience slipping away by the second. “We can talk about that later,” he said. “Andrei, _I really need you to come with me_.” He steered him back to the end of the alley. He was heavy and slow, but at least he wasn’t trying to resist.

When they got back to the sidewalk, Chilton took out his phone and dialed for a taxi. He didn’t take his eyes off Andrei until it pulled up to the curb.

He felt his shoulders relax as they got farther and farther from the alley. He couldn’t wait until they were in his apartment, a heavy locked door between them and whatever was lurking out there. Andrei was silent for the whole ride, a troubled expression on his face as he gazed out the window.

They made it up the stairs to Chilton’s apartment safely, and Chilton locked the door and closed all the curtains. He thought the chances that they’d been followed were pretty slim, but one could never be too safe. He put the jewel on his bedside table. He’d figure out what to do about that later.

He made tea for Andrei and himself and found a blanket to wrap around Andrei’s shoulders. He was shivering now, but Chilton wasn’t sure if it was from the chill of his apartment or something else.

“Let me tell you what I know first,” Chilton said when Andrei put his cup down after a few sips of tea. He didn’t look like he was going to pass out. That was encouraging.

***

“I feel so bad for making my mom worry,” Andrei said after Chilton had explained everything. “But you have to understand, that wasn’t me. I never meant to disappear like that. They _did_ something to me.”

“I need to you to tell me everything from the very beginning,” Chilton said. “Wait – do you mind if I record this? For my own reference, of course.”

“Just as long as you don’t go to the cops,” Andrei said. “Or the newspapers.”

“Of course not,” Chilton said. “I’m involved in this too, you know. And no one can _ever_ find out.”

“Okay,” Andrei said with a slow nod. Chilton could tell he was starting to trust him. That would make things a lot easier.

“So, Andrei,” he said, clicking the record button, “Tell me, from the beginning, about how you ended up in this cult, if that is indeed what it is.”

***

Mike (Chilton had to wonder if this was “Mike57”) had started to act strange and disappear for days at a time. When Andrei asked what was going on, Mike showed him the symbol and told him it meant he was part of something very important. He asked Andrei if he wanted to join, but Andrei was hesitant. He’d never felt the desire to join a gang or anything like that. Mike assured him that this wasn’t a gang, it was something with _purpose_. All Andrei had to do was go to one meeting and see what it was about, and if he didn’t like it Mike would never speak of it again. Besides, they met in a secret place _under the city_ , and wasn’t that cool? Andrei agreed, and followed Mike to the tunnel opening – which _was_ in the alley near the coffee shop – and they both descended what felt to Andrei like several stories.

He was astonished when they finally reached the meeting-place. Thousands of candles illuminated the cavernous space, which was much more vast that he’d imagined. There were chairs and couches everywhere, dozens or maybe even hundreds of them, but none of them matched. It was as if all of it came from some gigantic garage sale. Most impressive, though, was the structure in the center. It looked like a small pyramid constructed from something slick and black, like obsidian. A strange sort of electricity seemed to be pulsing around it. The space buzzed with the echoing whispers of the people in it, all of them staring at the new arrivals. Andrei didn’t think they looked too weird – most of them were wearing regular clothes like Mike and they didn’t seem to be zombies or cannibals or whatever else was supposed to lurk in places like this. Some of them looked off, though, as if they were only pretending to be human  and not doing the best job. He couldn’t wait to get back to ground level.

“I have brought the new recruit you asked me to find,” Mike boomed suddenly, and several of the people turned to face him. Andrei didn’t like the sound of that at all. Hadn’t Mike said he’d only be going there to observe?

The pyramid started to glow then, an electric blue that slowly pulsed into a neon magenta. One of the sides opened and a figure emerged. He looked human, but Andrei knew instinctively that he wasn’t. His skin was so pale that Andrei thought maybe he was a vampire, but somehow that wasn’t quite right, either.

“I’ve brought you what you asked for, Sylvan,” Mike said. “He’s ready to be Changed.”

The man called Sylvan smiled, and Andrei felt horror wash over him when he saw that his teeth were as black as his skin was white, and as sharp and jagged as shards of obsidian.

“I don’t want to be ‘changed,’” he whispered to Mike as Sylvan approached. “Take me back _now,_ you son of a bitch.”

Mike only grinned and held him in place with surprising strength.

Sylvan put a hand on Andrei’s shoulder, and he shuddered at how cold and heavy it was. It was as if his body were made from some dense alien material rather than human flesh. Wordlessly, he took his hand and led him to the pyramid. Andrei felt himself unable to resist, unable to move on his own. His heart felt like it was going to pound right out of his chest.

The other denizens of this nightmarish underworld were now silent, staring at him with frighteningly blank eyes. Mike had joined them.

Andrei felt the crackle of some strange energy as he approached the pyramid. The door that had appeared to let Sylvan out was still open, and he could see that it was pitch black inside. That blackness caused a gnawing in his gut that was more horrifying than anything he’d seen so far, and the fact that he was powerless to avoid it overwhelmed him with the urge to scream. If only he could open his mouth.

“You’ve been chosen for a great purpose,” Sylvan said. His voice sent shards of pain into Andrei’s head. “But first you must be Changed.” He led Andrei gently to the gaping hole in the pyramid and he was swallowed by the blackness.

***

“This is where I start to get confused,” Andrei said, interrupting his story. When he raised his eyes to meet Chilton’s they were full of guilt. “I know I did some horrible things because when I got home that night - or maybe it was another night, I don’t know – I found… things. I had the mark on my hand. And I had blood all over my face and it wasn’t mine.” He looked at his lap. “I also found a finger. A human finger. It was on my pillow.”

 _At least it wasn’t an ear_ , Chilton thought. “That wasn’t really you, you have to know that,” he said. “You were clearly in some sort of dissociative state.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that people are dead,” Andrei said. “And I helped to get more recruits.”

“Tell me about Sylvan’s cult,” Chilton said. “They want to ‘enslave the world,’ but did they say how they planned to do this?”

“It has something to do with supernatural beings,” he said. “Apparently they have some sort of power that can be harnessed that lets you control people’s minds. I think that’s what Sylvan did to me.”

“I don’t know if you remember this,” Chilton said, and now it was his turn to look guilty, “but when we were in the alley I shot you. I have a special sort of gun that’s only meant for supernatural beings. Anyway, when I shot you, something green and misty came out of you. So I shot _that_ , and it disappeared.” He decided not to tell him about the jewel until all this was over, and maybe not even then. And there was no way he’d tell him about Them.

“So you think I was being possessed by this green mist thing?”

“I think it’s very likely,” Chilton said. “And this gun I have destroyed it. So maybe if there was a way to use it on all of them we could stop them.”

“There are too many of them,” Andrei said, shaking his head. “They’d kill you before you could do any real damage.”

“Then what if I just go for Sylvan?” Chilton asked. Andrei stared at him, open-mouthed. “Why not? With their leader gone, they would have no purpose, no direction. Trust me, I’ve seen this a lot. They’d scatter like cockroaches.”

“I don’t think anything can kill Sylvan,” Andrei said. “You didn’t _see_ him, Fred. He’s not even human.”

“I’ve killed dozens of horrifying creatures,” Chilton said. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“With that gun? Where did you get it, anyway?”

“That’s not important right now,” Chilton said. “What is important is getting rid of Sylvan.  You have to take me down there as your new recruit.”

Andrei’s eyes filled with horror. “I never want to go down there again,” he said. “And if he finds out what you’re up to, he’ll kill us both.”

“Andrei, listen to me,” Chilton said in the sternest voice he could muster. “You’re my only chance. If we don’t do this, _many more are going to die._ Do you understand? For god’s sake, think of your _mother_. Do you want her to be a slave to these people? Or maybe even become one of them herself?”

Andrei’s wide eyes had begun to fill with tears. “No, of course not,” he said. “But you didn’t _see_ him.”

“I’m sure he’s horrible,” Chilton said. “But I have been gutted, shot, and set on fire. Trust me when I say to you that _I can handle anything_.”

Andrei just stared at him, mouth opening and closing.

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, as the saying goes. Now, are you going to help me or not? The sooner the better.”

That night Chilton slept better than he had in months. He had finally convinced Andrei to take him to Sylvan’s lair the next evening, and though it was a frightening thought, he couldn’t wait. Maybe They would find out – maybe They were even watching now, who knew? – and he’d be a hero. He was already swimming in warm feelings from his visit to the diner that night. Crina had been so happy to see her son that she’d hugged him and Chilton for a solid five minutes and had tried to give Chilton money, which he’d refused. Things could only continue to get better.


	6. Chapter 6

There was a palpable feeling of excitement tinged with dread in the air when Chilton and Andrei got ready to go to Sylvan’s lair the next night. Earlier in the afternoon, while Andrei had gone back to his apartment for a change of clothes, Chilton examined his gun. He’d never questioned how it worked, how it converted the bullets They gave him into a beam. There didn’t seem to be any settings, but he wanted to see if he could make it _stronger_ somehow. He had acted confident, but there was still a gnawing worry in the back of his mind that Andrei was right. Maybe Sylvan _was_ too powerful to kill. He just didn’t want to take any chances, that was all.

He turned the gun over and over in his hands before opening the chamber. He’d reloaded it last night, but what if… He took the bullets out, grabbed the jewel still sitting on his bedside table, and pushed it in. It actually fit, and he inserted bullets after it just in case. He felt silly and had no idea what that would do, but it was worth a try.

He tried to relax before Andrei got back, but it was no use. He’d already showered, dressed, and checked if his gun was visible a dozen times. This would have to do.

He and Andrei arrived at the alley just as the sun was setting. Chilton couldn’t stop shivering, and he knew it wasn’t just from the cold damp air that seemed to seep through his clothes to his skin. Andrei walked over to a nondescript door with no handle and pressed his palm to a space near the bottom. It slid open from the top, just enough for the two of them to crawl through, and then slid slowly closed again. The space they’d entered was dimly lit but Chilton wouldn’t tell what the source of the light was. They made their way through the space, which became larger as they walked, until they reached a set of steep, narrow stairs. Andrei went first and Chilton had to will himself to stop shivering as they descended. Every step felt colder and more damp, and Chilton could feel something else, too. Something that was making his heart jump in his chest.

“We’re almost there,” Andrei whispered as they came to the bottom of the stairs and entered a tunnel. The light was a bit brighter now. “Just stay quiet and let me do the talking.”

After what felt like several yards of gently-sloping twists, they arrived at the main cavern. It was exactly as Andrei had described: the mismatched furniture, the candles, the blank-eyed people. Chilton forced himself to stay calm.

“I have brought you a new recruit, Sylvan,” Andrei said, and Chilton was glad that his voice only shook a little.

The pyramid opened and Chilton clenched one hand into a fist as Sylvan emerged. He could feel the power coming off him in waves. He was strangely beautiful, yet in a terrifying way – something that you want to look away from yet don’t have the power to do so. It was a familiar feeling from his Baltimore days.

He started to approach them and Chilton’s heart rate quickened. He didn’t feel powerless yet, he could still move – but was it too soon to reach for his gun? How was he going to do this without Sylvan seeing? He had an idea, foolish but desperate.

“I changed my mind!” he shrieked, and dove behind Andrei. He peeked his head out from behind his legs like a child. “I’ll forget everything I saw here, I promise!” He slowly slid the gun out as he faked a series of sobs.

“It will all be over soon, my friend,” Andrei said. “Sylvan has great plans for you.” Chilton whimpered.

When Sylvan was a few feet away, he leapt out from behind Andrei, still making wild distressed sounds, and pulled the trigger. The beam of light shot out, much brighter than before, but his wildly shaking hands caused him to miss Sylvan. He was getting closer and there was a terrifying fury in his eyes, and Chilton could see that they were deep pools of black like Will’s had been, and for a second his face looked like Hannibal’s, those strong cheekbones, and oh god, his teeth-

Andrei pulled him sharply to the right then, and he heard an inhuman howl as Sylvan reached for him. His nails, also dagger-sharp and inky-black, slashed Chilton’s arm through his thick sweatshirt and he cried out.

He didn’t drop the gun, though, and aimed it at Sylvan’s head, right between his liquid eyes. He squeezed the trigger again, harder this time, and a beam shot out with a force so powerful he was thrown several feet into the air. He landed on top of Andrei, who was moaning. He rolled off, wincing at the pain in his arm.

There was a buzz of noise in the cavern now, and people were getting up. Sylvan was gone, but he hadn’t _seen_ him disappear. He’d been through enough to know that no one was dead unless you watched them die, and sometimes even then you couldn’t be sure.

“Did you see what happened?” he asked Andrei, who was now sitting up.

“Just a bright light. I had to close my eyes.”

Chilton got onto his hands and knees and scoured the floor around them. If he’d gotten Sylvan, there’d surely be a jewel-

“Looking for this?” a voice asked, and Chilton raised his head. A tall man stood a few feet from where he knelt, a man who was muscular and pale but not as marble-white as he’d been before. His eyes were an ordinary blue and his teeth were straight and white. The light reflected off the jewel he held in his hand. He sighed and said, “It’s going to be a bitch to rejoin, thanks to you.”

Chilton raised his gun and fired at his chest, but the beam didn’t affect him at all.

“It doesn’t hurt humans, or haven’t you learned that yet?” he said. There was a smug smirk on his face that Chilton couldn’t stand. “So now you really are defenseless.” The crowd behind him snickered softly but didn’t move.

Chilton heard a ragged shriek behind him, and before he knew what was happening, Andrei was on top of Sylvan. He was a big man, but Chilton knew he’d be no match for Sylvan, powers or no. He screamed at him to stop, to get off and save himself, but he continued to wrestle, his shrieks drowning out Chilton’s pleas.

The helplessness that washed over Chilton was so intense that it took him a second to notice the sparkle that flashed through the air. It was the jewel.

He ran for it and grabbed it just as Sylvan sent Andrei flying through the air. The crowd stood still, watching, though their eyes were starting to look less blank. Some of them were talking to each other now, whispering into each other’s ears.

Sylvan turned to Chilton, the expression on his now-human face almost as terrifying as it had been before. “Give that to me or everyone dies.”

Chilton knew what he was about to do was risky and stupid. He also knew that it was his only hope, and that if he didn’t try this, everyone would die anyway. He held the jewel firmly between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand and aimed the gun with his right. He bit his lip and pulled the trigger, wincing at the pain that shot through his arm.

He closed his eyes against the bright flash, and wished he could cover his ears because the howl that came from Sylvan’s mouth was deafening. He felt no pain in his hand, and his fingers slowly came together as the jewel disintegrated.

He only opened his eyes when the noise stopped, and was astonished to see that Sylvan had become a charred skeleton. The bones were starting to shimmer, though, and he watched as they turned to dust and blew into nothingness. Then his world went black.


	7. Chapter 7

He woke up to the beeping of a machine and a sinking feeling took hold as he struggled to open his eyes. That was never a good sound to wake up to.

“Hey, can you hear me?” someone asked. He blinked. It was Andrei, and Crina was standing by his side.

“Fred, we were so worried!” she said, and she gripped his hand tightly.

“What happened?” he asked, pushing himself up. His arm was bandaged, but he didn’t feel too much pain.

“We were jumped, remember?” Andrei said, and Chilton noticed that he was wearing a hospital gown as well. One of his legs was in a cast and there were crutches propped up beside one of the chairs.

“Oh, yes,” Chilton said, nodding. He’d have to ask again later after Crina went home.

“They said you’d be fine,” Andrei said. “Your arm just needed some stitches. Some knives that guy had, right? On his glove. Like Wolverine!”

Chilton had no idea what he was talking about, but he nodded anyway. He was clearly in a morphine-induced haze, and it was too nice to ruin with too many questions.

The doctor came in then, shooed Andrei back to his own room, and stood over Chilton after Crina left. “You’re going to be just fine, Mr. Chilton,” he said. He frowned. “Wait, are you _the_ Frederick Chilton? The author?”

“I am,” Chilton said, smiling.

“I love your books,” the doctor said. His awe-filled staring was flattering, but Chilton knew he was probably just looking for signs of damage. Everyone did once they found out.

“Thank you,” he said, his smile growing as the warm feelings washed over him. He wasn’t sure if they were from the praise or the morphine, but either way he’d take them. “I’m so glad someone enjoys my work.”

Later that night, on his way to visit Andrei, he saw two familiar figures in the hall: a pair of black-haired children being led by an older woman. He felt his stomach lurch as he rushed as fast as he could to join them.

“Eleanor? Owen?” He stood in front of them, trying to slow his breathing. They were happy to see him, though, which brought a smile to his face as they threw their arms around him.

“Excuse me, but who are you?” the woman asked.

Chilton straightened up. “I’m their babysitter,” he said. “What brings you here?” His heart sank as he remembered the banshee. He suddenly knew something had happened to Vic.

“Their father was in an accident a few weeks ago,” the woman said. “They say he’s going to wake up any day now, so we’ve been visiting. I’m their grandmother.”

“What happened?” Chilton asked in a low voice. The kids were staring at a video game in Owen’s hands.

“He drove his car off the freeway,” she said. “No one knows how that happened. He almost died a few times – apparently he did die for a few minutes – but they say his brain function is fine and he should make a full recovery when he wakes up. If he does.” Tears shone in her eyes. “He’s not my son, but after my Annie died I’ve come to think of him that way. These kids shouldn’t have to be orphans.”

Chilton nodded, processing this. That was why the banshee had visited, then – Vic had technically died. Maybe he didn’t have to worry about that family anymore.

***

Things were back to normal a few weeks after Chilton’s release from the hospital. He’d had one assignment since then, an easy one involving a mischievous gnome, but They hadn’t mentioned anything about his freelance work. He wondered if they ever would.

He was sitting in a coffee shop not too far from his apartment when he heard a voice from behind him say, “Hey, Fred.”

He turned, expecting some stranger to tell him where to meet for Their latest assignment, but it was Vic. He was pale, looked too thin under his bulky sweater, and walked with a cane, but he was alive and awake.

Chilton shot up from his seat and made his way over to him. He wanted to throw his arms around him, but he’d learned that hugs weren’t pleasant when one had internal injuries, so he refrained. He settled for a gentle pat on the arm instead.

“How did you know I was here?” Chilton asked.

“Never mind that. Fred, I need to talk to you,” Vic said. He looked around the shop. “This should be fine.”

They sat down at Chilton’s table. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Vic,” Chilton said. “I was worried for you and the children.”

“I’m truly lucky to be alive,” Vic said. “But there’s something else I need to talk to you about.” He looked around at the other customers again and leaned close to Chilton. “I’ve been seeing things. Things that shouldn’t exist.”

***

After listening to a story that mirrored his own almost exactly, all Chilton could do was stare. His throat had gone dry.

“Does this sound insane?” Vic asked.

“No,” Chilton said, and with a rush of courage reached across the table to grasp his hand. It felt frail and cold. “I’m going to tell you something but you must promise not to get angry.”

“Okay,” Vic said. He hadn’t taken his hand from Chilton’s.

“First of all, my name is Frederick Chilton, not Fenster. I knew about the banshee – the ghost in your house – before I arrived,” he said. “In fact… I was sent there by Them. The same people who’ve contacted you. They faked my references and got me the interview so I could pose as a babysitter to take care of it.” He felt Vic’s hand slip out of his.

“I see,” he said. His expression was hard to read.

“I protected your children, Vic,” Chilton said. “And I had no choice, which you’ll soon learn. Trust me, you would not be wise to refuse Them anything.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Vic said, rubbing his temple. “I’m just upset at the situation. That They – whoever They are – have this kind of power. That They can get someone into my home with my children. That They can force me to do things for them.”

“It’s hard to adjust,” Chilton said. “But I’ve been through this too. I’ve been dead three times too. I have seen so many horrifying things in my life.”

Vic’s expression had softened. “You sound like you’ve been through a lot.”

“The reason I’m telling you this is not to garner pity,” Chilton said. “I just want you to know that you’re not alone and that things will get easier.”

“Thank you,” Vic said.

“You can talk to me about it whenever you want,” Chilton said. “They never explicitly told me not to tell anyone, and I see nothing wrong with discussing it with someone who already knows.”

“I think I would like that,” Vic said. He gave Chilton a tentative smile.

“Also… I know I am not a real babysitter, but I think I did an adequate job the first time, so if you ever need anyone to look after the kids…”

This got a laugh from Vic, who followed it with a wince. “My ribs,” he said, holding his left side. “But yes, they seemed to like you. I still have your number.”

“Good,” Chilton said, smiling. “Feel free to use it whenever you want.”

“I think I will,” Vic said, standing up. “Speaking of kids, their grandmother’s expecting me back soon. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome,” Chilton said. He embraced him as gently as he could, feeling a pang of sadness at the way his shoulder blades protruded under his sweater. He held the door open for him and Vic gave him a smile and a little wave before making his way to the sidewalk.

A warm feeling he realized was hope washed over him as he watched Vic walk away. Maybe things were finally starting to happen at the right time and in the right place.


End file.
